


Hic Sunt Leones

by violethowler



Series: Gold Paladin [1]
Category: Red Rising Trilogy - Pierce Brown, Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Bisexual Character, Crossover, Crossover Pairings, Explicit Language, F/M, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, It's Tactus, M/M, Minor Character Death, Multi, No Voltron Pairings, Recreational Drug Use, Red Rising Pairings Only, Red Rising spoilers, Season/Series 02 Spoilers, Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It, What else did you expect? - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-26
Updated: 2018-01-26
Packaged: 2019-01-23 16:34:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 37
Words: 95,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12511612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/violethowler/pseuds/violethowler
Summary: When Shiro opened his eyes, he was no longer seated in the cockpit of the Black Lion. Instead, he found himself waking up in a med bay to a woman with gold hair and matching eyes demanding to know what color he's supposed to be.Thrown forward hundreds of years into the future after the battle with Zarkon, Shiro must bide his time and navigate the Game of Thrones-esque nature of Aureate politics in order to find a way back to his own time.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> When Season 2 came out, my roommate and I were freaking out about what happened to Shiro and immediately started speculating as to what happened to him and why he disappeared from the cockpit of the Black Lion. Since I'm a huge Red Rising fan and I wanted to add some more fics for it on fanfiction.net, I had decided to combine one of my theories on what happened to Shiro with Pierce Brown's amazing Red Rising trilogy and present my idea as a crossover. I finished posting this story and began work on the second installment in the series when Season 3 came out and proved all my theories wrong, but I'm still committed to finishing the sequel.
> 
> I've already finished writing this story, I'm just cross-posting it from my fanfiction.net account. Expect to see A LOT of updates as I transfer over the remaining chapters for this fic. I'll also be taking the opportunity to edit the chapters for spelling mistakes and continuity errors.
> 
> I'm going to warn anyone looking for trigger warnings now that the Red Rising universe is very gritty and brutal. The Society is a dystopia built on slave labor, so torture, rape, and abuse frequently happen in the background and are casually talked about by the characters. I try to keep this light, but it's impossible to do a fic in the Red Rising universe without having characters talk about these things, so I'm just putting a blanket statement that there will be casual references to the following:  
> -rape  
> -abuse (physical/verbal/emotional/sexual)  
> -torture  
> -suicide  
> -slavery  
> -sexual slavery  
> Few of these individually have a specific impact on the plot outside of backstories, but these are all background elements baked into the system of institutional oppression that the heroes of Red Rising are dedicated to dismantling. I don't go into too much detail, but I just wanted to issue a word of caution for anyone who needs it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is set during Golden Son, the second book in the Red Rising trilogy. While this fic mainly follows the plot of the book, Shiro's presence will cause some major changes towards the end, particularly in terms of character deaths and shifts in allegiance that happened in canon but will be prevented here.
> 
>  **Update 11/4/17:** The original prologue was a fast forward to the Iron Rain in the last third of this fic, but I decided to rework it into Shiro's perspective of the last few minutes of the Voltron vs. Zarkon fight in Season 2.

#### Zarkon's Central Command

#### 2037

"Keep Zarkon away from the Black Lion!" Pidge's voice was faint as Shiro slowly regained consciousness. Zarkon had tried to take control of Voltron through what little remained of his bond with the Black Lion, and the last thing Shiro remembered before passing out was Zarkon blocking Voltron's attack and sending a burst of energy through his whip that forced the lions to separate. Shiro took it as a good sign that he was still alive. It meant that Zarkon hadn't gotten his hands on the Black Lion yet. Hearing Pidge's voice also meant that the rest of his teammates were okay.

"Come on!" he heard Keith shout as the ringing in his ears began to fade. "We can't give up." Shiro's eyes widened as he fully woke up, looking out the front viewport of the Black Lion to see the rest of his team firing everything they had at Zarkon and his Voltorn-sized armor.

"I'm running out of strength, man," Hunk called out over the com. Shiro lurched forward in his seat as Zarkon brushed off the stream of lasers surrounding him.  _Come on,_ he said to the Black Lion through their bond.  _Let's get back in this fight._

"Look out!" Lance shouted as Zarkon lashed out with the whip on his massive suit of armor. Pidge's and Keith's screams echoed in his ears as movement to his right drew his attention. A panel on the console was rising, revealing the port that his teammates would plug their bayards into in order to activate new weapons and abilities for Voltron. In an instant, he knew what the Black Lion wanted him to do. If they were going to defeat Voltron, they would need Zarkon's bayard. And Shiro knew just how to get it. As Zarkon continued to wipe the proverbial floor with his teammates, Shiro pushed the Black Lion forward, her memories of their bond flashing through his mind as Lion and Paladin surged toward the Galra emperor.

He felt a surge of quintessence on the lion's back, and though he couldn't see outside the Lion's field of vision, he knew that he had unlocked her wings. The Black Lion glowed with pure quintessence as she moved at hyper speed, passing through Zarkon's armor in a beam of light. For a moment, Shiro was back in the astral plane moving fast through Zarkon's form before he was back in the Black Lion's cockpit an instant later. As he felt his lion's wings dissipate, he felt the weight of a bayard in his right hand.

"Whoa!" Lance exclaimed over the comm. "What'd you do?"

"I've got Zarkon's bayard," Shiro explained as he lifted the device up, so he could get a good look at it. When he did, it shifted from the harsh, angular form Zarkon had corrupted it into, back to the standard default form of the other ones.

"You mean you've got  _your_ bayard," Keith corrected proudly.

"We've only got a few minutes left before power returns to Zarkon's ship," Shiro said, switching back into battle mode once more. "Form Voltron!" Gears shifted, and mechanical limbs rearranged as Shiro felt his lion converting into the torso configuration. He could feel the other lions connecting to his through his bond with Black seconds before the indicator lights lit up on the control console. Within seconds, Voltron floated in space, facing down Zarkon from across the distance between them. He could feel his teammates' emotions through their bonds with their respective lions. Their relief that everyone on the castle was alright, and their unyielding resolve as they charged into battle, five minds moving as one.

Again, and again Voltron and Zarkon clashed like medieval knights jousting with lances, each strike accompanied by a blinding flash of light as their blades locked. Coran reported that power was returning to the Galra command ship as Voltron launched another blow at Zarkon, only for the Galra emperor to block it once more. They wheeled around and chased after their foe again, Keith and Pidge raising the sword into a ready position as they flew.

"This is our last chance," Shiro reminded the team. "Let's finish this." With one last battle cry, Lance, Hunk, Pidge, and Keith all surged their controls forward in unison as the blade impacted against Zarkon's armor. When the flash cleared from their eyes, pink crystal fragments floated in the space between the two metal titans, drifting up from where Voltron's sword had pierce the belly of Zarkon's suit. In a last attempt to destroy the Paladins, Zarkon brought his suit's arms up to Voltron's head and sent a surge of electricity through the defender of the universe. Shiro flinched in his chair as the energy raced up his arms. He fought the surge enough to see the open slot for the bayard still illuminated, and with a groan of pain, he fought through Zarkon's attack and plugged the bayard into his slot. He turned it like a key in an engine and Voltron's sword burst into flames.

Keith brought the Red Lion up and drove the blazing sword deeper into Zarkon's armor, sending tendrils of golden lighting shooting out into the space around them. The team let out one last battle cry as they pulled the blade free. The team pulled back as Zarkon's battle suit sparked and twitched. And finally, the emperor's armor exploded in a titanic explosion that filled Shiro's vision. But as the light faded, darkness crept over him, and consciousness left him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Despite it's sizeable fandom nobody I talk to outside of it seems to have heard of Red Rising, so I will try to provide some basic information for the sake of comprehending some of the background things characters are talking about, particularly since the books never really provide a glossary of all it's terms and are rather heavy on background lore.


	2. Ockham's Razor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: Shiro has a panic attack in the new version of this chapter. I used Squirenonny's fic Another Word For Never on AO3 (a scene where Matt has one when the handcuffs from Episode 2 of the show give him flashbacks to his time in the Galra labs) as a reference to get the feel behind it. I didn't go into too much detail because I wasn't sure I could write a scene like that well. If anyone is willing to provide constructive feedback to make the moment more realistic, PM me. If you'd like to skip it, it starts at "His mind processed" and you can start again at "goryhell".
> 
> * * *
> 
> # Part I: Bow
> 
> # "Hic sunt leones. Here be lions."
> 
> # Nero au Augustus

Darkness surrounded him as he came to his senses. The last thing Takashi Shirogane remembered was fighting against Zarkon with his fellow Paladins aboard Voltron. Zarkon had tried to destroy them by crushing Voltron's head, but they'd combined all five of their bayards together to form a Blazing Sword that had completely devastated Zarkon's suit of powered armor in a blinding flash. Evidently, the shockwave of the explosion had knocked him unconscious. As he regained his senses, he felt a blanket draped over his body as he felt a soft form beneath him that he assumed was a mattress.  _Were the healing pods damaged from the battle?_ He wondered. Shiro tried to lift his arm and feel the surface beneath him, only to be held back as he realized that something was keeping his arm restrained.

 _No!_ he thought desperately, his eyes popping open to take in the sight of both hands and feet secured to a hospital bed. He could feel the dull ache where an IV tube had been inserted into his left arm. A heart monitor stood next to the bed, and his armor was laid out on a chair that sat across the from the table. A large window stretched across the wall to his left. His mind filtered this sensory input through a layer of gauze, however. His breathing was shallow and frantic as memories of being experimented on by the Galra flashed through his mind. His right arm tingled in phantom pain at the memory of the operation to both amputate his original arm and graft the cyborg prosthetic onto his body.

He pressed himself into the mattress as his eyes did another sweep of the room, analyzing everything as he looked for a possible means of escape. He struggled against his bonds in terror when the door hissed open to reveal a woman with golden hair. Shiro panicked as he tried to get as far away from the door as he possibly could while fighting back a scream so as not to reveal to his captors how terrified he was. His vision felt hazy as the woman raced towards the bed, and his ears barely registered a faint beeping noise as the woman pressed something on the side of the bed and his restraints unlocked. Unthinking, Shiro lashed out with his right arm and struck her in the stomach.

He was just about to pull himself out of the bed and make a break for the door when his head turned passed the window and he stopped in his tracks. The sight of Earth looming in the sky cut through the haze of panic as Shiro began to realize the gravity of his situation. He hadn't just been out for a few hours after the battle. Given the size of Earth in the morning sky, there was only one celestial body in the universe where he could be right now. He was on the moon. And judging by the skyscrapers and trees outside the window, he had been out for much longer than a few hours.  _How long has it been since our battle with Zarkon?_ He managed to wonder as his breathing returned to normal and his heartbeat slowed.

"Goryhell," the woman cursed. "That stung. What's that gorydamn arm made of anyway? StarShell scrap?" Now that Shiro had gotten his panic under control, he looked her and mentally reassessed his estimation of how long it had been. She was about his height, but even though he'd never seen a human being with that shade of golden hair or matching eyes, he was confident that she was human. A gold crescent moon was emblazoned across the chest of her white uniform, with matching gold trim on the sides. A thin, holographic computer screen glowed softly in the air above her left forearm, while her right clutched at the spot where he'd smacked her.

"I'm sorry," she said as she stood up. Her accent sounded British with vague hints of Scandinavian underneath. "I hadn't considered how you'd react to being restrained. I should have anticipated your reaction better." Now that Shiro had stopped panicking about being captured again, he finally got a good look at the woman keeping him there. Although he didn't fawn over every woman in sight like Lance, even he had to admit that she was beautiful.

"It's not your fault," he replied cautiously. "You had no way of knowing I'd have a panic attack." He took a deep breath to center himself. "I'm sorry for hitting you." She waved him off, gesturing for him not to worry himself over it. Shiro breathed a small sight of relief. Whoever she was, she clearly had no intention of holding him prisoner or torturing him like he'd been afraid of when he first woke up. That didn't necessarily mean she didn't have ulterior motives for him, but it at least meant that her intentions weren't as horrible as what he'd initially feared.

"I've suffered worse injuries at the Institute," the woman responded. "And you were having a panic attack, so your reaction was understandable. Besides, it's not like you could have done more than bruise me, even with that arm of yours. If you don't mind my asking, what exactly happened?" An awkward silence followed as Shiro took another deep breath to steady himself, wrestling with the question of how much to say when he had no idea what had happened or how long he'd been out. Eventually, he settled on non-committal silence.

"I don't want to talk about it," he finally said. The woman frowned slightly. Shiro could see the sympathy in her eyes, but he could tell by the look on her face that he'd have to give her something.  _Hopefully I don't have to give away too much,_ he thought to himself as he looked anxiously at the woman who had evidently provided him with medical care while he was unconscious.

"I can understand if what happened is too traumatic to revisit," she began. "But right now, "I don't want to talk about it" isn't good enough. You appeared in the Citadel gardens in a flash of light with no sign of where you'd come from. Your Color is impossible to determine from your features, you have a cyborg arm more advanced than our most up to date mechanical prosthetics, and your armor is unlike anything that has ever been seen in the entirety of human history. Fortunately for you, nobody besides myself and the Yellow are aware of your presence in the Citadel. But you are a mystery, and if you are discovered before I can craft a suitable explanation for your arrival, the Sovereign will have you dissected in order to solve that mystery."

"I don't really know how I ended up here," he finally admitted. "One moment, I was aboard my ship. Then there was a bright flash, and the next thing I know, I'm waking up here. I'm not even sure what year it is." He didn't know what had happened while he was out cold, but he knew that he'd have to trust someone with the truth if he wanted to survive.

"It's the seven hundred fortieth year of the Post-Conquering Era," she answered. This only served to confuse Shiro even further. "If you were wondering what that would be in terms of the Gregorian and Julian calendars of Old Earth, that corresponds to the year twenty-eight-forty. Shiro's face paled. Eight hundred years. It had been over eight hundred years since the battle with Zarkon. Eight hundred years since he'd become a Paladin of Voltron. Eight hundred years since the last time he had set foot on Earth.  _Did we win?_ He wondered to himself as he fought to keep himself from hyperventilating, taking deep, slow breaths to keep himself calm. The woman frowned, confused by his reaction.

"What year was it before you woke up here on Luna?" she asked. Shiro breathed, wrestling with the question of whether this woman would believe him if he told her the truth. But as she said, if not her, then someone with a lot less compassion or concern for his wellbeing would be the one asking questions. Given the choice between a peaceful conversation and a merciless interrogation, he'd have to go with the former.  _I guess I'll be able to tell how trustworthy is by how she reacts when I tell her the truth,_ he mused as he looked away from the window back to his rescuer.

"It was twenty-thirty-seven," he answered, trying to keep his voice from cracking as he fought to hold back tears at the thought that he may never see his friends again.  _Calm down, Shirogane,_ he told himself.  _The place isn't swarming with Galra aesthetics, which means that Zarkon's army never made it to Earth. That means we won, doesn't it?_ The woman appeared to be just as stunned as he did. "You probably think I'm crazy," he added.

"Not at all," the woman replied. "There's no rational explanation for your inexplicable appearance in the gardens. There were no signs of gravBoots or a ship crash to explain your arrival, and nothing to account for your armor. Since the only explanations that were remotely plausible fell into the realm of science fiction, time travel is a rather mundane explanation compared to some of the possibilities I've been thinking of while you were unconscious."

"Fair enough," Shiro admitted with a morbid chuckle. He'd seen enough things previously thought impossible during his time as a Paladin that time travel didn't seem outside the realm of possibility anymore.  _And it's more likely than the team putting me in a cryopod only to lose me for eight centuries,_ he commented mentally.

"I'll tell the Yellow you're awake and have them bring you some food," the woman added before gesturing towards a large bathtub on the opposite side of the private hospital room. A pile of clothes sat stacked on the countertop next to the bath. "In the meantime, feel free to use the bath if you'd like some variety after lying in bed for two days. The Yellow took your measurements while you were unconscious, and I had one of the Browns in the laundry room send up some clothes in your size, so that you don't have to wear your armor all the time."

"Thank you," Shiro replied, holding out his hand. "I haven't had a chance to introduce myself, have I? My name's Takashi Shirogane. Most people I know call me Shiro." The woman paused for a moment, as if his named sounded familiar to her. Then her look of confusion vanished, before she reached forward and shook his outstretched hand, a conspiratorial smile on her face.

"Virginia au Augustus," she answered. "Welcome to Luna." After that, she left to go take care of getting him some food and assembling the resources to develop his cover story, leaving him alone with his thoughts. Eight-hundred-and-three years. That was how long it had been since he'd lost consciousness in the cockpit of the Black Lion. All of his teammates, his friends, were long dead. What had happened to them after he blacked out? Had Zarkon been destroyed? Had Allura and Coran survived when Zarkon went after the Castle? A million unanswered questions raced around in the quiet of his own mind like a hurricane.

 _Take a deep breath, Shiro,_ he reminded himself, tears welling up at the thought of never seeing his friends again.  _If you're lucky, maybe Augustus can help you hide and find out what happened._ He didn't dare allow himself to hold onto hope of ever returning to his own time. If he got his hopes up, it was more likely that he'd be demoralized at being stuck in the future forever. The lesson he'd learned in the gladiator pits of the empire applied to his new situation now. Hope would get him killed. If he was going to survive, he had to assume that he would never be able to get back to the past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, fellow Red Rising fans, Shiro is going to be on Luna during The Summit, so you know where that's going to go. 
> 
> And yes, the chapter title comes from the Voltron season 2 finale. Since that episode is what started this whole idea, I thought it would be fitting.
> 
> I will be following Red Rising's writing pattern for distinguishing between different methods of speech, so to clarify:
> 
> "Regular character speaking."  
>  **"Ragnar talking."** (He has such a deep baritone voice that Pierce Brown writes his dialogue almost exclusively in boldface.  
>  _Thinking ___  
>  _"Recorded messages and comm link communications,"_
> 
>  
> 
>  **Red Rising background info time!:**  
>  **-Accents:** While most of the Red Rising characters speak English, each of the Colors has their own dialect and culture. For example, Reds speak with Irish accents, while Obsidians mainly speak ancient Norse. From my research into the series lore after becoming obsessed with it, Gold dialogue in the audiobook versions is described by fans as sounding Scandinavian, but the way it's written in the books and Pierce Brown talking about his inspirations for different parts of the series are more suggestive of British accents. So I had Shiro describe Mustang's HighLingo as a blend of the two.
> 
>  **Prefixes:** All colors on the pyramid from Gray upwards have a 2-letter prefix before their last names, derived from either the periodic table abbreviation for that element (Au for Gold, Ag for Silver, Cu for Copper), or for an element associated with that color (Blue has Xe for Xenon, Gray has Ti for Titanium). The prefixes for Green, Yellow, Violet, Orange, and White are unknown as of October 2017, while Red, Brown, Obsidian, and Pink don't have prefixes (or even last names in the case of Pinks and Reds), because Golds see them as objects rather than people.  
>   
>  **Terminology:**  
>  **-highLingo:** Speech patterns, vocabulary, and slang of the highColors (Gold, Silver, White, Copper)  
>  **-midLingo:** Lingo of the middle tiers (Blue, Yellow, Green, Violet, Orange, Gray)  
>  **-lowLingo:** Lingo of the Reds and other low colors (Brown, Obsidian, Pink, Red)  
>  **-gravBoots:** exactly what they sound like.  
>  - **pulseArmor:** Think Iron Man armor, only a little bulkier, like War Machine's suit. The arm blaster portion is a separate item called a pulseFist.


	3. Knowledge is Power

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 11/23/17: Completely overhauled the chapter to add more interaction between Shiro and Mustang.  
> 1/15/18: Iron Gold confirms Hyperion as the name of Luna's capital city. Updated all relevant chapters to reflect that.

#### Hyperion

#### Luna

#### October 15th, 2840

Virginia au Augustus didn't return until the next day. Shiro assumed she was busy gathering resources to help him figure out how to get home, and that she also wanted to give him time to adjust to his situation after being out cold for two days. With nothing better to do to pass the time, Shiro climbed out of bed and started exploring the rest of the room. As expected for a hospital room, there were few decorations, a private room at least brought with it the luxury of his own shower. Since he didn’t have access to any of the castle’s systems from his armor, he kept himself busy by working out in the center of the room. He did pushups and sit-ups for an hour before he finally cleaned himself off in the shower.

He spent a long time standing there with the water running over his skin before he finally turned off the tap and dried himself off. The clothes Virginia had left him were partially casual, consisting of a high-collared turtleneck sweater and some black cargo pants, and as she had assured him, they fit him like a glove. In any case, they allowed him to change into something more comfortable than a hospital gown after his shower. Around five o’clock, going by the digital display by his bedside, a man with pink eyes and lilac hair knocked on the door and brought him something to eat for dinner. Shiro didn’t know what had happened to human civilization in the last eight hundred years, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to find out, if how surprised the man had been when he thanked him for the food was any indication.

After two days of dreamless slumber, his sleep that night was restless as he ran through different scenarios for what could have happened after the battle with Zarkon. Doubts and fears about the fate of his friends ran through his mind on a continuous loop until he awoke the next morning with bags under his eyes. He rubbed them as he looked out at the light coming in through the windows, slightly dimmer than the day before. The man who brought him dinner had explained that because the moon was tidally locked to Earth, the nights on Luna, as Earth’s natural satellite was now called, typically lasted for about two weeks, followed by two weeks of sunlight. It would be a week before the moon was completely cut off from the sun, and the light faded a little more with each passing day.

Virginia returned after the pink-haired man had brought him breakfast, the holographic screen mounted on her arm displaying a video that he had never seen himself, but had heard described by Pidge several times since their arrival at the Castle of Lions.

 _“The Galaxy Garrison mission to the distant moon of Kerberos is missing, and all crew members are believed to be dead”_ the newscaster reported as the backdrop shifted from video footage of his old shuttle’s launch to the press photos he had taken with the Holts before they left Earth. His name stared back at him from the screen underneath the old photo of himself in his Garrison uniform, his hair missing the white stripe it now sported after a year in captivity. _“The Galaxy Garrison has said that the crash was presumably caused by pilot error. It is indeed a sad day for all humanity.”_

“Am I correct in assuming that’s you?” she asked as she closed out the video. He nodded, knowing that he’d have to tell her at least some of the truth. He didn’t have much time to dwell on his thoughts before Virginia started asking more questions. “So how did a pilot the Old Earth media claimed was dead turn up alive in armor that does not appear to be of human make?” From her choice of words about his armor, Shiro could tell she already suspected alien abduction. _Not that unbelievable since she’s dealing with time travel,_ he thought to himself.

“It’s a long story,” he answered sadly as he glanced at his paladin armor still stacked in the corner. “And I know you need an explanation, but right now, I don’t feel like talking about it.” Virginia nodded.

“I understand,” she replied. “I assume reports of your death were either premature or else falsified for the sake of a government cover up?”

“Something like that,” Shiro responded. “And before you ask, I have no idea where the rest of my crewmembers are. We were separated after our capture.”  A spark of curiosity lit up in Virginia’s eyes, and Shiro winced at having unwittingly confirmed her suspicions.

“Considering you’re a time traveler, I should have expected alien abduction had something to do with it,” she commented. “I understand if you don’t want to talk about your time in captivity, but I do need to know whether or not they currently pose a threat to Earth.” Shiro bit his lip as he tried to frame how to move back

“I’m not sure,” he admitted. “I was a prisoner of the Galra Empire for about a year before a resistance group helped me escape. Since Earth obviously wasn’t conquered in the last eight hundred years, I’m assuming they’ve been defeated for good, but I can’t be completely certain unless I either make it back to my own time, or humanity contacts other alien civilizations any time soon.”

“So your circumstances are more like Samurai Jack than Flight of the Navigator, then,” Virginia mused. “If there really is an afterlife from which the dead watch over the living, my older brother Claudius must be laughing at us right now.” Shiro quirked an eyebrow at the reference to a film that came out eight hundred fifty-four years ago.

“Aren’t those a little before your time?” he asked with an amused chuckle, feeling a pang of sympathy for Virginia’s late brother.

“Claudius loved Old Earth science fiction back when he was still alive,” she explained with a laugh. “He let me watch some of his old films and serials with him when he felt they were appropriate for a ten-year-old. Samurai Jack was one of my favorites, and Navigator was a guilty pleasure of his.” Her mask of professionalism dropped for a moment to reveal her grief for her late brother, before she carefully shelved her emotions once more. Wanting to offer belated condolences but not knowing what to say, Shiro reached out and put his hand on her shoulder as a show of support. She thanked him for his concern before steering the conversation towards helping Shiro blend in with modern society, starting with the ways that human civilization had changed since the twenty-first century.

“When the first colonists ventured forth from Earth to make their home on the moon in the year twenty-fifty,” she began, taking on a tone that clearly indicated she was reciting a history textbook passage that virtually everyone knew by heart. “They created a hierarchy for labor. In time, they improved this hierarchy through genetic and surgical manipulation. The result was a color-coded society of perfect efficiency, dominated by a superior breed of humanity – the Golds. It was they who rebelled against Earth, conquered her, and sowed the seeds of our society across the solar system.” Shiro frowned as he thought through the implications of her words to decide on what question to ask next.

“Meaning that all of the different Color classes had distinct physical features marking them as a member of that Color, right?” he asked.

“Correct,” Virginia answered. “There are other differences in physique and bone density, but the primary identifying traits for a Color are hair and eye color, both of which correspond to one’s caste, with a few exceptions. Obsidians have white hair, for example, while Blues are bald, and as artists, Violets are permitted to dye theirs.”

“What are the different Colors?” Shiro inquired, curious to know despite his uncertainty.

“At the bottom are the Reds, unskilled manual laborers,” Virginia replied. “Above them are Pinks, bred for unparalleled beauty and trained in the arts of physical pleasure. Next are the Obsidians, a monstrous race engineered for war. Then come the Browns, household servants and other menial laborers. After that are Grays, society’s military forces and police officers. Then Oranges, our mechanics. Next come Violets, the creatives, as I mentioned. Following them are the Greens, the programmers and developers of technology.” At this, Shiro let out a quiet laugh as he imagined Pidge with green hair and eyes in this era.

“What’s so funny?” his rescuer asked.

“Matt’s sister Katie was always good with technology,” he explained. “I was just imagining her as a Green right then.” Virginia chuckled, understanding the sentiment even if she didn’t fully grasp the context before she continued her explanation for the Colors.

“Above Green are the Yellows, doctors and scientists,” she went on. “Then come Blues, pilots and navigators. After them are Coppers, our administrators, lawyers, and bureaucrats. Next are priests and priestesses, the Whites. Following them are Silvers, our civilization’s bankers, innovators, and financiers. And at the top are the Golds, the fiercely intelligent rulers of humanity, like my father, Nero au Augustus, ArchGovernor of Mars.” Shiro let out a whistle at this revelation, understanding now why Mustang was so concerned about him being dissected for not fitting into any of the categories society had molded over the last eight centuries.

Once she finished explaining the hierarchy, Virginia pulled a device she referred to as a dataPad out of her bag and showed him how to attach it to his arm. As he did so, she poured a glass of the strange fluid she'd brought with her, explaining that it was a tonic designed to allow one to absorb, comprehend, and retain information faster. All Shiro would have to do was take some before going to bed and speed listen to audio-book files as he fell asleep and after a few nights he'd wake up completely caught up on the last eight centuries of history, literature, and culture. Shiro couldn’t help but marvel at how far human technology had come in the last few hundred years. Something like that would have been impossible back in his own time. He briefly contemplated bringing some tech back with him only for logic to rear its head and shoot that thought down. He didn’t want to create any paradoxes.

“I don't know what to say," he said finally as she prepared to leave for lunch, promising to bring hair dye and contact lenses so he wouldn't stick out in crowds when she returned after her afternoon meetings. "I'm grateful for all that you're doing for me, but… why? You said yourself if I’m discovered, I’ll be dissected. Why risk everything to help me?” While Shiro was fine putting his life on the line every day protecting innocents from the Galra, he was justifiably cautious now that he was in this situation alone. There was no Castle of Lions to fall back to if things went south. No Voltron to save the day when things looked bleak. He was on his own, and while he’d accept any help he was given, he had to make sure that offers of aid were genuine.

“As a Gold, my tutors and instructors always taught me to be strong and ruthless." Virginia replied. “But I had always learned differently from that. Rather than an endless river of stories about strong men claiming glory for their own heads, I was raised on tales of heroes who protected the weak. My father is a cold cruel man, but I will always be grateful that I was able to spend my childhood at the estate of Kavax au Telemanus, who taught me to do the right thing. So, I’m going to do everything I can to keep you alive until we can find a way to send you back to your own era.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mustang's explanation of the color hierarchy comes directly from the Red Rising website.
> 
>  **Background info time:**  
>  -Virginia goes by the nickname "Mustang" because at The Institute (high school for Golds consisting of year-long war games divided into Harry Potter-style schoolHouses), her house was the only one provided with cavalry horses and she was the first character from her house to be introduced. She earned the nickname Mustang, and it stuck, so that all of the main heroes of Red Rising refer to her as such for the remainder of the series. Shiro isn't as close with Mustang as the rest of the cast is, so she won't be referred to by her nickname when a chapter is focused on him until later in the story.
> 
> -Her older brother Claudius has been dead since before the first book, and other than Nero seeing him as the perfect son, we know very little about him. So for the sake of this story I came up with the idea that he was an aficionado of old pre-Conquering era sci-fi shows to explain how Mustang even thought to consider time travel as a possible explanation for Shiro's appearance. 
> 
> -In the centuries since The Conquering, eugenics and genetic engineering has made the Colors so physically different (The average Red is about 4 ft, while Golds average around 6 ft, Obsidiansrange from 6 to 8 ft, etc.) that the conception of a child between two Colors is impossible without further genetic manipulation.  
>  **Terminology:**  
>  **-The Compact:** The constitution of society in the Red Rising universe.


	4. Chameleon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 12/4/17: Reworked the chapter so that I could expand on the second half and get into Shiro's head a bit more.

#### Hyperion

#### Luna

#### October 16th, 2840

 _I have to admit,_ Shiro thought to himself as he looked in the mirror that evening. _The gold eyes and hair make me look kind of badass._ He and Mustang had spent most of the previous day crafting his cover story and fake credentials so that he could go out and mingle with Gold high society without anyone looking too closely into where he’d come from. Today they’d been up since sunrise putting in the contact lenses and dyeing his hair so that he had the physical appearance of a Gold. There were Carvers, Violets specializing in body mods and genetic engineering, who could give him genuine Aureate eyes and hair. But even if just the idea of being on an operating table again hadn’t brought him to the brink of another panic attack, he just didn't like the idea of changing his appearance so completely. He was going to find a way back to the past eventually, and he wanted his friends to be able to recognize him. Virginia understood his reasoning, which was why she’d agreed to hair dye and contact lenses and didn’t try to force the issue.

In addition to his speed-listening sessions, Virginia had brought in one of her Pinks after ensuring his silence to teach the Black Paladin how to act like a Gold. Shiro might be absorbing information on history and culture faster than humanly possible, but none of that would matter if he couldn’t play the part of an impoverished Gold convincingly. If he didn’t, if he slipped up and said the wrong thing, he’d be dead either way. The best-case scenario was accidentally insulting someone and getting sliced to ribbons in a duel. Worst-case scenario, he said something to give away that he wasn’t really a Gold, and the most ruthless killers on Luna would be all over him like a wolf pack devouring a lost sheep. _But that's what the Pink is for,_ he reminded himself. _To get me into shape mentally so that I can carry on a conversation without slipping up._ While he knew he had to make the most of his situation to survive, the idea of referring to people as Colors, of having to treat those lower than himself on the social pyramid as subhuman, was already starting to make him uncomfortable.

While the original purpose of the hierarchy as Virginia had explained it to him – to organize labor positions among humanity's first interstellar colonists to maximize resources– made sense in theory, the fact that Gold had genetically altered humanity so that the different Colors were barely even the same species anymore disturbed him. Combined with the way Mustang described the social system and how everything worked, it sounded like all the other colors' labor only served to make life comfortable and luxurious for the Golds. He'd shared all his reservations with Virginia yesterday, hoping that she would be receptive to an outside perspective on her culture. As it turned out, she already considered the hierarchy to be a flawed system.

“At the Institute of Mars,” she had explained. “Darrow and I created something new, using a philosophy that we felt had the benefits of the order provided by The Society but without the flaws and disadvantages we'd already seen. Instead of turning the other houses into our slaves as we were instructed, we took the Oathbreakers, and convinced them to follow us willingly by providing them with food, furs, and a purpose without demanding that they lick our bootheels. We earned their trust and loyalty instead of forcing them to obey our whims.”

Shiro was impressed and a little awed at how two teenagers had managed to turn the castoffs of their class into an army strong enough to effectively declare war on their instructors. Not only that, he admired their willingness to eschew conventions in order make something good and decent in a place of cruelty and horror. He’d have to meet Darrow in person to see how the reality measured up with what Virginia had told about him, but both Darrow and Virginia seemed like potential Paladins. There was something about Darrow in particular that screamed “Future Black Paladin”. _Of course, that’s if Voltron hasn’t been destroyed at some point in the last eight hundred years_ , he reminded himself sadly.

“If all The Society were like that,” Virginia had gone on to comment. “then civilization would be so much better. Morale would be higher, there wouldn't be any dissatisfaction in the LowColors… Honestly, I agree with you. Gold gets to live in luxury for over a hundred years while lowReds mining under the surface of mars die by thirty so that everyone else can live comfortably. The hierarchy has been corrupted from its previous purpose. But despite how I feel about the system, I am not presently able to change anything, and so I work with what I have and make things better in other, smaller ways.” Shiro had nodded, understanding that despite the sizable block of reformers in the senate advocating for the improvement of society to make things less oppressive for the other Colors, the reformers didn't have the numbers or the individual personal influence necessary to make significant changes.

The whole caste system reminded him heavily of his time as prisoner of the Galra, and as a Paladin of Voltron, he hated the idea of not doing anything while billions of his fellow human beings were trapped in an oppressive system, but he could not do anything at this point that wouldn’t reveal himself to the Sovereign, the elected ruler of human civilization. For the last sixty years, Octavia au Lune ruled the solar system from the Morning Throne on Luna as de facto empress of humanity. While nominally an elected official, those who crossed her did so at their own peril. And if she detected even the slightest hint of who Shiro really was, there was no doubt in the Black Paladin’s mind that he’d be lucky if the woman stopped at dissecting him.

Despite Shiro’s refusal to get his hair and eyes replaced, he couldn’t make it through his stay in the future without going under the knife at least once. There were still some parts of his disguise that Virginia would have to take him to a Carver to have added. For one thing, he had to get the correct Sigils grafted onto his body. The thin sheets of metal would be grafted onto the backs of his hands and connected directly to his body’s central nervous system. Then, he would still need to get the correct ID chip implanted in his forehead. Shiro sighed as he thought about all the things he had to do to survive. Thankfully Virginia reassured him that when they found a way to return him to his own time, the Sigils and ID chip could be removed. While he was with the Carver, Mustang would be busy putting together the necessary documents and forgery to set up his cover story.

She'd combed through old records looking for obscure Gold families wiped out by space travel accidents, who had no money or holdings, and who lived far enough away from the public eye that the sudden appearance of an heir kept hidden from society wouldn't be far-fetched. In this case, he would pass himself off as the middle child from one of these families kept hidden because he was born with an abnormally low bone density. Once they had planned out his fake family history, they moved on to finding him employment. For Shiro’s presence not to arouse any questions about his past beyond the usual gossip of the Sovereign’s court, he needed to have a credible reason for spending time with Virginia. While the Black Paladin disliked taking advantage of someone else’s misfortune, the fact that Darrow was currently in hot water with Virginia’s father had provided them with the perfect opportunity to secure his position in this era.

Yesterday, several members of House Bellona, the Augustus family’s chief rivals for the position of Mars’ ruling house, had beaten the twenty-year-old warlord following his disastrous defeat at the Academy and publicly broadcast the humiliating beatdown. Darrow’s contract as a lancer of House Augustus was due to expire in two months, and after the public humiliation, the Martian ArchGovernor would be unlikely to renew the young man’s employment. According to Virignia, her father’s decision had likely been influenced by the schemes of his chief Politico, Pliny au Velocitor, but neither she nor the time travelling Paladin were going to look a gift horse in the mouth. Virginia clearly didn't want Darrow to lose his employment - the Bellona family matriarch literally wanted the young Gold’s heart served on a silver platter for the death of her favorite son, Julian - she still intended to take advantage of the fact that her father was looking for fresh lancers to fill all vacancies before Darrow was cut loose.

In any case, she had already made her own plans to protect her friend from the Bellona without crossing her father, so Shiro didn't need to worry about feeling guilty for taking Darrow's job. At the same time, he couldn’t help but feel that the Bellona family’s reaction to Julian’s death was hypocritical. The Passage, the Institute’s final entrance exam, was a brutal culling where a top scoring student was locked in a room with a low scoring student and the only way out of the room was for one of them to kill the other. The fact that Julian’s family had sent him to the schooling knowing that there was only a fifty-fifty chance of him surviving past the first day made their bloodlust towards the young man who’d been forced to do the deed seem unreasonable to Shiro’s mind.

As he prepared himself for his second day learning highLingo and Aureate ettiqute with the Pink, Shiro couldn't help but feel a pang of homesickness. Since neither he nor Virginia had any idea what had caused his sudden voyage to the future, they had no clue where to start in their quest to send him back to his own time. He had no idea when, or even if, he’d ever see his team again. He could only imagine how his friends would take his sudden disappearance. _Keith will take it the hardest,_ he thought to himself. _Considering what I saw in his mindscape when he took the Trials of Marmora, me disappearing like this will destroy him._ Shiro’s heart ached as his mind brought forth hypothetical images of his friend working himself into an obsessive frenzy trying to find some proof that the Black Paladin wasn’t dead.

 _Get it together Shirogane,_ he chastised himself as he walked over to gaze out the window at the Luna skyline. _If you’re going to survive, you need to keep a lid on your emotions. You can’t let your grief show except for in private. If you can’t get a handle on maintaining a straight face in public, you’re as good as dead. And then it won’t matter what your friends think happened to you._ As much as it hurt to remind himself of that fact, he needed to be pessimistic if he ever wanted to see his friends again. To survive in this hostile new era, he couldn’t afford to get his hopes up.

But despite the odds stacked against himself, he refused to give up. Even though he was centuries away from the rest of the team and Kieth would take over as leader, he was still a Paladin of Voltron. It wasn't in his nature to give up. As he looked out the window, he caught sight of the first stars beginning to peak through the smog in the atmosphere of Luna’s ever-dimming sky. Despite the difference in positioning, he felt a small amount of comfort knowing that when night finally came to Earth’s moon, he’d be able to see the familiar constellations he’d grown up seeing every night. _Don’t give up on me yet guys,_ he said silently, more both as a vow to himself and a silent reassurance that, despite his best efforts, would never make it back across the ages to the people he’d come to consider family. _Someway, somehow, I will find my way back._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Background Info:**  
>  -The Institute is basically the Golds' version of high school, where they're sorted into houses, Harry Potter-style (twelve, each named after a Roman god or goddess), then dumped in the Martian wilderness with Game of Thrones-level weapons and technology, each given a castle and one resource that the other houses don't have, and basically compete in war games for nine or so months until one house reigns supreme over all the others. The highest-ranking student in each house is known as the Primus. Prisoners from rival houses become slaves to their captors for the duration of the game unless freed by members of their own house, or in the case of Darrow and Mustang's army, released once their trust has been earned. It's essentially an entire school for Spartan military training in space.
> 
> -After graduating from the Institute, students can attend other schools around the solar system that function as Space!College. There's a political school on Luna, law school on Venus, etc. The Academy sits in the heart of the asteroid belt and teaches students fleet warfare and other interstellar military tactics.
> 
>  **Terminology:**  
>  **-Carvers:** Artists who specialize in working with body alterations. Their specialty ranges from simple cosmetic surgery to DNA modification (which covers everything from grafting wings onto a person's body for kinky sex to creating a real-life dragon just because they can)  
>  **-Sigils:** The insignia corresponding to one's color that every person in Red Rising society has on their hands as an extra ID-marker on top of hair and eye color. Despite their appearance, they're not tattoos. Rather, they are thin sheets of metal grafted onto a person's body and connected to their nervous system.  
>  - **Lancers:** A soldier who has sworn allegiance to a particular family for purposes ranging from body-guarding a member of the House to conducting military battles in their liege's name.


	5. Into the Vipers' Nest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 12/11/17: Expanded on everything to flesh out the lunch scene and get inside Shiro's head a little more in the second half of the chapter.

#### Hyperion

#### Luna

#### October 30th, 2840

Shiro was nervous as he and his host walked quietly through the winding corridors of the Citadel, carrying on an utterly meaningless conversation about the weather to discreetly test his highLingo. The Black Paladin fought to keep a straight face as he followed Virginia au Augustus towards the Citadel’s dining halls. As they talked, he reminded himself of his cover story of why ArchGovernor Augustus had chosen to hire him. The official story was that, with rising tensions between the Bellona clan and the Augustus family, Virginia’s father wanted to employ someone to guard his daughter full time, as insurance against an assassination attempt by the Bellona. As such, his primary duty was to shadow the young woman wherever she went. Today, the first item on her agenda was a private breakfast with the Sovereign. This meant that today would be his first interaction with other Golds and his official introduction to the Society. Given Virginia's notoriety, it was inevitable that he was going to be dragged into the spotlight.

“You’ll be fine,” Virginia reassured him. “Keep the details of your cover story vague, only speak when spoken to, and you should make it through without attracting too much interest.” For the past two weeks, she had quizzed him on his cover story until he could recite it on reflex, while at the same time he had told her stories of his time back in the 21st century on Earth as a Galaxy Garrison cadet. While she enjoyed hearing of the shenanigans he’d gotten into with Keith and Matt back then, she was clearly eager to find out more about his experiences after Kerberos. But he wasn’t ready to open about his time as a prisoner of the Galra just yet, and she promised not to pry further until he was. Shiro respected her even more after that conversation, but there wasn’t any more time to reminisce. 

“Alright, then,” Shiro replied, bringing himself back to the present as they approached the two Olympic Knights stationed outside the door to The Sovreign's private chambers. “Let's get this gorydamn over with.” After Shiro and Virginia were both searched for weapons, they both walked into the room full of killers. On one side of the table sat Octavia au Lune, with her grandson Lysander seated on her left side. Across from her sat Cassius au Bellona, soon to be the new Morning Knight. After Virginia had been seated, Shiro moved to stand guard from the side of the corner of the room, ready to spring to her defense in the event of an assassination attempt. In the remaining corners, a Bellona lancer and two of the Furies did the same. The Black Paladin took deep, quiet breaths to keep his heart from racing as he realized the gravity of the situation.

Magnus au Grimmus, otherwise known as The Ash Lord, was the ArchImperator of the Scepter Armada, and commander of the Society’s military forces. When the moons of Saturn rebelled in the first year of Octavia’s reign, Grimmus personally gave the order to destroy the moon of Rhea, incinerating fifty million people in a nuclear inferno. His three daughters were the Sovereign’s closest confidants and fiercest bodyguards. At least one of them was by the woman’s side constantly. Moira, Lune’s chief Politico, sat by the Sovereign’s right hand, between her liege and Virginia. Aja, the Protean Knight, stood in the corner directly across from Shiro, while the third Grimmus sister stood opposite the Bellona lancer. From what he'd read of them from the holonet, and from Virgnia's descriptions of them, each of them alone sounded as ruthless a Galra commander. Being locked in a room with all three would be a recipe for disaster if he slipped up.

While his cover story held up under scrutiny, Shiro couldn’t help but feel nervous allowing Lune and her inner circle to even know he existed. Just looking at Aja sent bone-deep chills down his spine. Nevertheless, he kept his emotions concealed as he answered Lune’s questions about where he’d come from with a brief outline of his fake history. He told her about how he’d lost his right arm in a training accident at the age of twelve, and his parents’ debts had mounted high enough that they couldn’t afford to have carvers reattach it, barely scraping together enough credits to get him implanted with a cyborg prosthetic. How, after his parents had died, he’d been left on his own to survive in the streets for half his life. While Shiro fought to keep his expression neutral, Aja and the Sovereign were visibly intrigued by his stories of having killed carved beasts with his bare hands.

Mercifully, the topic of conversation shifted away from Virginia’s new bodyguard, and the Black Paladin resisted the urge to sigh in relief. From there, the meal passed without further incident or inquiry into Shiro’s fake past. They discussed recent Sons of Ares attacks, Karnus au Bellona’s victory at the Academy, and Mustang’s graduation from the Politico school on Luna. Shiro could tell Virginia was holding back her desire to object when Cassius started trash talking Darrow regarding the man’s public beating at the hands of his brother and cousins. Eventually, conversation died down, and everyone began to disperse. Cassius left for an afternoon tournament on the Dueling Circuit, while Virginia remained behind for a private conversation with the Sovereign. Since the authority of the Praetorian Guard outranked his own, Shiro was dismissed for the day to do whatever he wanted until Virginia called him to escort her back to her quarters.

Wanting to avoid too many people asking questions, Shiro headed down to the fitness center for a morning workout. He was a bit nervous at first, but he relaxed as his Sigils, ID chip, and House Augustus credentials granted him access. During their preparations, Virginia had told him that most fitness centers had exercise machines designed to allow people to exercise in different levels of gravity. So, to pass the time, he decided to try one of them out, and set himself up for a simulated jog in normal Earth gravity. As he ran, he started feeling a little homesick as he thought about how long it had been since he'd last set foot on his home planet. When he crash-landed back on Earth after Ulaz helped him escape, he’d left again less than twenty-four hours later. Between Galaxy Garrison trying to sedate him and their race to find the Blue Lion before the Galra arrived, there hadn’t been any time to get in touch with his parents and let them know he was still alive. It had been more than a year since he’d seen his family, and they still thought he was dead.

But as he ran, the workout helped him focus his thoughts. Even if there hadn’t been as much pressure for time, what could he have done differently? Keith’s old house in the desert didn’t have cell reception, and while the place was set up for WiFi, the Black Paladin ultimately realized that any attempt to contact his parents would have been in vain. If he tried to email them from Keith’s computer, they’d think Keith was mocking them at best, or that Keith’s email had been hacked at worst. Even if they were able to double back towards civilization without getting caught by the Garrison and shoved in an unmarked cell with no one knowing where they were, it would have been cruel of him to give his parents hope only to vanish off the face of the Earth when he went back into space in the Blue Lion.

 _Some things can’t be done differently, I guess,_ the Black Paladin thought to himself as the timer on his datapad went off. After stopping the timer, Shiro adjusted the controls on the machine and slowed his pace down to a walk. Once his run was finished, he did some stretches to cool off before he finally stepped out of the machine. With his workout finished, he grabbed a bottle of shampoo out of the gym bag Virginia had taken him to buy last week and headed into the communal washroom for a shower. Shiro was grateful that no one else was in the locker room with him as he stripped out of his workout clothes. He was already nervous enough speaking to other Golds, to say nothing of standing naked in a locker room with them. Even so, he showered quickly, and pulled his lancer’s uniform out of his bag to get changed.

Once he was cleaned off and fully clothed, he headed for the lift that would take him upstairs from the fitness center towards his quarters. As her assigned bodyguard, Shiro had been given a suite right next door to Virginia’s. It was the kind of thing you expected to see in a penthouse of a five-star hotel, or the top floor of a mansion. The whole ensemble included a bed five times the size of his bunk on the Castle of Lions, a closet the size of the bedrooms on the Castle, a private sauna the size of his new bed, and a bathroom as big as the Castle of Lion’s bridge. The scale of wealth and extravagance here on Luna bounced between making his head spin at the scope of it, and making him grit his teeth in disgust at the excessiveness of Gold aristocrats. Once he got back to his room, he walked into the bathroom to put his dirty workout clothes in the hamper.

Once he finished putting everything away, Shiro turned to leave. On his way out into the bedroom, he looked to the side and caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. Piercing gold eyes stared back at him in place of his natural dark gray. His once black hair now glittered golden in the overhead lights, and instead of the familiar sight of the white of his front bangs, all he could see was gold. Matching gilded lines traced their way across his black uniform to create intricate patterns on the shoulders and knees, while the red and gold lion of House Augustus was emblazoned proudly across his chest. The back of his left hand still itched and tingled where the metal Sigil had been grafted on at the Carver's shop, and a matching one had been painted on the back of his metallic right arm. A sad frown crossed his face as he realized that he barely recognized himself anymore.

 _What am I becoming?_ He thought to himself as it truly began to dawn on him just what he was going to have to do to survive. _I'm a Paladin of Voltron. I should be out there trying to fight this oppressive hierarchy, not hiding among the people who uphold it. Even if I do make it home, Keith will have to take over as leader of Voltron. With I’m going to need to do to stay alive, the Black Lion will never accept me as her Paladin anymore._ After all that time in space fighting to free the universe from Zarkon’s territory, it burned that he had been forced into a situation where he had to help perpetuate the enslavement of humanity in order to keep himself alive. But as much as he hated not being able to act against this injustice immediately and directly, there was nothing he could do at this point.

Even if he rejected Virginia’s offer of assistance and chose to take his chances on the streets, what would he be able to do?  This wasn’t like the Galra Empire, where the team could blow up a few battle cruisers and people would immediately have the resources to rebuild their civilization. This was a system that had been entrenched for almost seven and a half centuries, and if all the ruling Golds were killed today, the entire solar system would spiral into chaos. There were resistance groups like the Sons of Ares, but they had been fighting for two decades now without success. The Society’s engine of oppression wasn’t going to be brought down by a few epic battles and a revolution among the lower castes. And while he admired Virginia’s dream of creating a better world through political reform, that could only go so far. Humanity wasn’t meant to be so rigidly divided like this.

But the only person with the authority to dismantle the Hierarchy of Color in a way that other Golds would tolerate was The Sovereign herself, and even if the Sons of Ares managed to overthrow her, there would be thousands of Golds eager to maintain the status quo lining up to take her place. The power base of the reformers in the Senate was too small to have the kind of influence humanity needed. After looking at all of these factors since his arrival in this era, it had become painfully clear to Shiro that lasting change for The Society had to come from within and without. Even if he did manage to contact the predominantly Red resistance group, who would believe him? He didn’t have any proof more solid than an eight-hundred-year-old photo, and that wouldn’t be enough. He’d never be taken seriously even if he shed the trappings of Gold that sheltered him from Virginia’s enemies.

 _Guess that means I'm stuck here,_ Shiro finished as his train of thought reached its inevitable conclusion. _Until I can find a way to change things, I'll have to settle for doing what I can to help Virginia increase the influence the Reformers have in the senate so that if and when we find a way to return me to my own time, I can at least return knowing that things will be better than when I arrived._ His doubts and fears quieted for the time being, he settled down into the room's small commChair to watch the news on the HC.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Background Info:**  
>  -The Sons of Ares are a resistance movement dedicated to tearing down the color hierarchy. Although they primarily engage in guerilla bombings, they surgically altered Darrow from his original Red body into a Gold and sent him to infiltrate Gold society. Their goal is for Darrow to climb the ranks high enough to get himself command over a fleet for the Sons to add to their arsenal. Unfortunately, Darrow hasn't had contact with them since the end of the first book and must figure out how to accomplish that on his own.
> 
>  **Terminology:**  
>  **-Politicos:** Golds who serve as political and financial advisors to the head of a major house.  
>  **-Imperator:** The admiral in command of a fleet. The ArchImperator is in charge of all military forces in The Society.  
>  **-Olympic Knights:** Space!Kingsguard, only they don't serve for life. There 12 in total, each with their own title: Morning, Rage, Protean, Storm, Wind, Hearth, Truth, Joy, Death, Cloud, Fear, and Love. They serve as both bodyguards to the sovereign and roam the solar system enforcing the laws of the Compact.  
>  **-CommChair:** Recliner chair with built in Holo-screens and communications devices.  
>  **-HC:** Technically stands for HoloCam (camera that projects everything in holograms, essentially), but is also used to describe watching TV the way we do in real life.


	6. Alpha Wolf

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 12/22/17: Rewritten to change the timeline of events and flesh out the visit to the opera.

#### Hyperion

#### Luna

#### November 13th, 2840

Sweat streamed down Shiro’s back as he flowed around the ring, moving the practice sword in his hand through the forms of razor combat. Since being formally employed as a lancer of House Augustus three weeks ago, he’d spent most of his free time in the training room, where one of Darrow and Mustang’s soldiers tutored him in combat with razors and other bladed weapons. He’d been coming in during his free time to practice some more on his own, and he could only hope he’d never have to use the razor he’d been given with the job. _But knowing my luck, that’s not very likely,_ he thought to himself. Most of the Golds here in the Citadel would mock him for only just now learning how to use their caste’s signature weapon, since most Aureate had trained with a razormaster by the time they turned twenty. Thankfully, many of Virginia’s friends from her and Darrow’s inter-house army were more accepting of his learning curve.

In any case, his sword technique was solid, thanks to his experience in the gladiator arenas of the Galra Empire. It was just a matter of learning the new techniques and how to work with the razor itself, and his experiences as a Voltron paladin made him a quick study. With his training session completed, Shiro bathed in the training room’s communal shower before returning to his own suite to get ready for that night. After a day of dealing with the politics of the Sovereign’s court, Mustang was going out to the opera that evening for a date with Cassius, and as her bodyguard, Shiro was required to accompany her. His thoughts echoed in his head as he walked through the corridors of the Citadel towards his personal quarters, reflecting on everything that had happened in the last few days. Shiro and Virginia had become close friends in the weeks since his arrival in this era, enough that she let him use her nickname Mustang when outside of formal situations.

He had someone who he could talk to who knew where he really came from, and she had someone who she could vent to without fear of political consequence when she needed someone to talk about her frustrations with. In their spare time, they discussed topics ranging from politics and philosophy to life on Earth in the pre-Conquering era. He told her stories of his trip to Kerberos, and the friends he'd made with his fellow paladins. While he still refused to go into detail on his captivity at the hands of Zarkon’s empire, the stories he did share with Mustang still enthralled her.

He forced his reminiscing to the back of his mind as he opened the door to his suite and stepped inside. Once he closed the door behind him, he walked over to the closet and selected a black military uniform from his sparse wardrobe before glancing around at the rest of his possessions. A few other uniforms dangled from hangers spaced out around the oversized walk-in closet, interrupted only by a large dresser filled with only a week’s worth of casual clothes, and his Paladin armor stacked in pieces in the corner. It occurred to him then just how little he owned for himself anymore. While the living quarters on the Kerberos mission were sterile and cold, he and the Holts had at least been allowed to bring along a few things to alleviate the inevitable homesickness. Photos of his family, favorite books and movies, souvenirs from some of the shenanigans he and Keith would get up to during their days at the Garrison together… all those had been left behind on Kerberos when they were captured by the Galra.

After that, the only thing that he could consider his own was his prison uniform, and that wasn’t really saying much. He hadn’t even had a chance to rest after returning to Earth. He’d had the opportunity to sleep without fear of being woken up by his guards and change into clothes that were more than just mass-produced prison rags. But after that, they’d gone looking for the Blue lion and, given what he now knew about human history now, had never been back since. He’d spent his entire career as a Paladin of Voltron owning nothing but his uniform and the clothes on his back. And now the armor was the only thing he had left. His uniforms, his armor…  even his new razor was considered property of House Augustus, and he had a hard time thinking of the era-appropriate clothing as his own since it was only for the sake of blending in.

The Black Paladin hit the brakes on his brooding as he changed from his casual attire into his uniform. He couldn’t afford to show any weakness tonight. Tensions between the Augustus and Bellona families had been rising for some time now, but the passive-aggressive hostility between the two houses had begun escalating to a fever pitch. In five weeks, all the major Gold families in the solar system would gather on Luna for the Summit, a three-day event held once a decade where two-thousand of the most important Golds in the empire assemble to discuss, legislate, and debate on matters ranging from critically important to the survival of the Aureate regime to staggeringly mundane. For every cabinet meeting among the ArchGovernors about the spread of the Sons of Ares, there would be a conference on the latest fashion trends. For every back-room business deal, there’d be ten class reunion parties being hosted by the various schoolHouses of every Institute campus in the solar system.

Two hours later, Shiro stood in the corner of a private box as opera music droned on around him. Cassius and Mustang sat together on a plush couch in the middle of the room, two Pink attendants standing by ready to provide whatever comforts the two Golds wanted during the performance. The time traveler stood in the corner by the door to stop any potential intruders who might come in from the halls, bored out of his mind as he struggled to stay awake. Opera had never been his thing, but unlike the last time he’d been dragged along to a performance, he didn’t have the luxury of falling asleep until it was over. He met the tired gaze of Cassius’ bodyguard standing in the opposite corner, and a moment of shared boredom passed between the two men. _Funny,_ Shiro thought to himself. _Even with how screwed up human civilization has become, and how high tensions between the Augustans and the Bellona are right now, some things transcend time and space._   

Mercilessly, the opera lasted another three hours before it finally ended, and Shiro was practically dead on his feet. It was well past midnight, and the only thing keeping him awake was the coffee he’d quietly asked the Pinks to bring him hourly over the course of the performance. To assuage the ever-present guilt at having to play the part of a Gold overlord, he made sure to be as polite as he could, and discreetly slipped some credit chips to the slaves who brought him his beverages. It wasn’t much in the grand scheme of things, particularly compared to the obscene scale at which Golds spent their wealth, but it was still more money than most of these people would make in a month. The awestruck, reverent look the Pinks gave him every time he handed one of them some cash made him feel sick to his stomach.

His hatred for this whole system of de facto slavery aside, the evening was largely uneventful. Cassius and Mustang chatted amicably throughout the performance, although Shiro had overheard the new Morning Knight make a few unflattering remarks about Darrow during the performance. Shiro knew on an intellectual level why Mustang continued to date the Bellona heir even though she clearly didn’t care for him the way he did for her. She’d been raised in a harsh, brutal world that taught its rulers to protect their biological family at all costs, and she saw manipulating Cassius via a relationship as the most expedient route to that. But the Black Paladin still had a hard time understanding it on an emotional level when he could tell that she still had feelings for Darrow. But despite his suggestions that she end things with Cassius amicably, she turned him down, again citing the need to protect her family. Thanks to her father’s inability to stamp out the Sons of Ares, ArchGovernor Augustus had fallen out of favor with the Sovereign. The Bellona sought to strip him of his governorship, and Cassius’ mother Julia was even now gaining favor with the one woman in the system with the authority to do so without a vote by the senate. 

It was well past midnight when they finally left, and there were still a few more things to do before Shiro could crawl under the plush covers of his bed and sleep. As they made their way out of the Elorian Opera House towards a waiting aircar, Cassius stepped forward and opened the door. After helping the Augustan heiress get into the car, the Bellona turned to Shiro and gave him a firm handshake. The young Olympic Knight seemed to respect him, despite the hostility between the two houses. Shiro nodded as the two men shook hands and he walked around to get in on the other side of the waiting car.

“Well I’m glad one of us enjoyed this evening,” he commented as he closed the door. With both passengers inside, the car climbed into the sky and joined the flow of traffic as it made its way through the spires of the city’s highColor district. While Shiro wasn’t a fan of the Prequel Trilogy, the cities of Luna reminded him of Coruscant from Star Wars.

“The opera was pleasant enough,” Mustang commented as she typed out directions for their next stop. She needed troops in the Citadel who weren’t loyal to the Sovereign, so to that end, she had brought in some old friends from the Institute. Their torchShip from Triton was landing at the spaceport, and she and Shiro needed to give them the address for the safehouse she’d set up on the outskirts of the Citadel grounds. Not to mention introduce them to Shiro so they’d know him enough for her to use him as a courier should the need arise. “I could have done without his constant jabs at Darrow’s recent failures, though,” she added.

“I thought you and Darrow were done,” Shiro commented, only half teasing. They’d had this conversation before, when he’d tried to convince her to break things off with Cassius and find another way to get close to the Bellona clan. She’d turned down his suggestion, but he still tried to convince her anyway. Outside the window, the Black Paladin could see the Flaminius astroDock in the distance, where transport ships entering and exiting Earth’s atmosphere docked. His musings on how far mankind had come in eight hundred years were put on hold as he heard Mustang answer his question.

“Just because I can't understand why he chose to go against his principles and become another one of my father's killers doesn't mean that I'm fine with others belittling his accomplishments,” Mustang answered as she pulled a clump of semi-translucent out of her bag and tossed the inactive ghostCloak at her bodyguard’s face. “After all, they were just as much my accomplishments as they were his.” That was the end of the conversation, as Mustang pulled a second ghostCloak from her bag and threw it on over her dress as Shiro finished donning his own. Their ride passed in silence for another hour before the aircar taxied to a halt at the curb a few blocks from the spaceport. As they exited the vehicle, Mustang handed Shiro a few credit chips from her bag, and he turned around to give them to the Brown who’d driven them to the spaceport.

 _That poor guy looks like he’s going to have a stroke,_ the Black Paladin remarked sadly to himself as the aircar sped away through the sky lanes of the city’s upper levels. It made his blood boil that what Golds considered pocket change was more money than their servants saw in a year. Once again, he felt the urge to march into the Citadel and take down Lune by himelf. But just as quickly as the urge came, he forced it down. Now wasn’t the time, and even if he managed by some miracle to make it passed the Praetorian Guard, the Olympic Knights, and all three Furies, he doubted the Sovereign herself would be any easier. This was a woman who intentionally started a riot when she was nine by throwing diamonds out of an aircar window. She was not someone to underestimate.

Shiro and Mustang walked through Luna's cloying, polluted air along the walkways of the highColor district towards the spaceport. Even after weeks living in the Citadel, the Black Paladin was impressed with how far humanity has – or from his perspective, will – come, that they could terraform the planets of their solar system in any way they see fit. A few hours later, they reached the dock they were looking for to find hundreds of passengers of all Colors flowing out of a parked torchShip. As he and Mustang approached the crowd, the lowColors parted like a diverted river, revealing the distinctive sight of nine shorter-than-average Golds. One of them, who Shiro presumed to be the leader due to the wolf helmet he held against his hips, had a mechanical eye in place of where he clearly lost his organic one.

“Lo, Mustang,” the one-eyed young man remarked before taking a long look at Shiro. “Did you replace me before I even got here?”

“Hardly,” Mustang replied with a chuckle. “I simply managed to convince my father to permit me to hire a new lancer as part of my plans to protect my family from House Bellona. As far as he's concerned, that's all Shiro is here for. But you already know why I brought you all here from the Rim. I need men here at the Citadel I can trust. The more people I have not loyal to the Sovereign, the better. Now I assume you've all brought ghostCloaks?”

“As if you even had to ask, horsey,” the man answered in mock offense as the rest of his Howlers laughed.

“I've missed you too, Sevro,” Mustang commented dryly as she explained the sleeping arrangements she'd made for the Howlers and made introductions. The tall girl was Quinn. Clown, Pebble, Thistle, Screwface, and the others, insisted on being referred to by their nicknames. Shiro did his best to commit everyone's faces to memory. Once introductions had been made the group activated their ghostCloaks and headed out to the safehouse Mustang had set up on the outskirts of the Citadel grounds. As they engaged their gravBoots and took off into the dark midnight sky, Shiro noticed Sevro glaring at him out of the corner of his eyes. It took all of three seconds for him to realize that despite Mustang’s assurances, the lead Howler didn’t trust him. Shiro was going to have to be extra careful not to let anything slip.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to give readers a glimpse at the backstory Mustang had concocted for Shiro in the previous chapters before we gought right into the thick of things, and I wanted to show that she and Shiro are starting to become more friendly with each other. No, there will be no Shiro/Mustang romance. I have too many emotions invested in Darrow and Mustang to ship either of them with anyone else.
> 
>  **Terminology:**  
>  **-torchShip:** Common spaceship class. No clue what they do but from what little is in the books, it's some kind of military transport. Sevro mentions travelling aboard one to get to Luna in Golden Son, so either there's a civilian model used as a passenger ship, or they're just multi-purpose spaceships.  
>  **-ghostCloak:** A sci-fi version of Harry Potter's invisibility cloak.  
>  **-datapad:** Arm-mounted holographic tablet used as a laptop/kindle/digital organizer/etc.
> 
> Citadel: The capitol building of each planet or moon from which all major government business is conducted.
> 
> Razor: A collapsible sword that allows its wielder to alter the shape of the blade at will. In its inactive state, it resembles a whip kept hooked to the wielder's belt. With the toggle of a switch, the whip uncurls and hardens into a searing hot blade. The type of blade can be customized depending on the wielder's fighting style, so that it functions as a broadsword, rapier, scythe, etc. depending on what the owner needs it to be.


	7. Icarus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Update 11/5/17:** Expanded the dialogue for Nero and Tactus to flesh the chapter out more, and redid Shiro's dialogue to account for the changes to his cover story.

#### Hyperion

#### Luna

#### December 15th, 2840

Five weeks later, Shiro stood in front of the bathroom mirror in his quarters, adjusting his lancer’s uniform and combing his golden hair. Tomorrow was the first day of the Summit, and Hundreds of Golden families both major and minor were landing their private ships at designated landing pads across the Citadel grounds. Mustang was in the other room changing from her morning workout into her formal attire. He took a deep breath to calm himself as he rehearsed what it was he needed to say. Mustang's father would be arriving shortly, and since the man was technically his boss, he needed to go down and introduce himself to the ArchGovernor of Mars.

As they walked down to the fields, they watched her father's ship touch down near the Citadel. Sticky, polluted wind bent the towering trees near the landing pad. Another vessel painted in the silver of House Bellona landed to the north as two young men who Shiro recognized from the HC videos as Darrow and Roque exited the ship. The two bantered as they walked towards the seven-story villa assigned to the Augustus household for the duration of the summit, joining the procession already making their way there while the ArchGovernor's Gray security teams did a sweep of the building. As the column made its way indoors, the Browns assigned to the landing pad begin unloading everyone's luggage from the ship.

Once everyone had entered the villa, Mustang gestured for Shiro to follow her as they walked through the front doors. Roque and several other lancers had left to attend a conference on history and economics, while the rest made themselves comfortable. Obsidian bodyguards trailed the high-ranking Golds of the house like shadows, while Pinks streamed gracefully into the villa, ordered from The Gardens by household staff who found themselves bored from three weeks of space travel and seeking a little pleasure and entertainment. Shiro and Mustang breezed past all of them as she led him upstairs to the second floor, headed for the room where she knew her father would most likely be: the study.

The first thing that Shiro noticed about Nero au Augustus was that, unlike most Golds, who were bred for physical perfection and looked like they had been carved from marble, his face looked like he had been chiseled out of solid granite. His long, bony fingers gripped the arm-rest of his chair like they were the only thing in the world that mattered. Shiro fought to keep a straight face as Mustang explained to her father the official version of how he'd come into her service. Though he fought to keep himself from making eye contact, he could feel the eyes of Nero and his chief Politico, Pliny, boring into him, trying to decipher who he was. When Mustang finished speaking, her father asked to speak to Shiro alone.

“Now that my daughter is not here to speak for you,” the Martian ArchGovernor began. “I would like to know more about you Terranova. I don’t mean your family history, I can research that easily enough. I want to know how a Bronzie orphan from Earth who never attended either of his planet’s Institutes managed to convince my daughter that you should be a lancer for my House, rather than House Lune or the Bellona. What is it about you that made her think I would want you in my service?” Shiro took a deep breath, drawing on both his fake backstory and a small bit of his time in the gladiator arena for what would probably be the most stressful job interview of his life.

“I lost my arm when I was twelve,” he began. “My parents’ debts had started to mount up and they couldn’t afford to have a Yellow reattach it. The best they could afford was a mechanical prosthetic at a discount from a local carver. When they died, their lands and property were seized, leaving me out on the streets with nothing but the clothes on my back. I lived by myself in the wilderness for the first few months after being evicted from our house in Norway. I spent that time hiking towards the nearest city, killing carved wildlife twice my size with my bare hands for food.”

“Once I got to Oslo,” Shiro went on. “I spent most of my time in the lowColor districts scrounging up enough money to survive. It took another year to save up enough credits for a cheap, one-room apartment in the lower levels of the city. Once I had a roof over my head I started doing mercenary work to earn more money. This past year I finally saved up enough to buy passage on a ship leaving Earth for Luna. I may not have come from an august lineage or graduated from the Institute, but I have been fighting for everything I have in life since I was fifteen years old.”

Augustus and Pliny were silent when he finished, and though Shiro remained at attention, he could feel the Politico glaring at him. _Great_ , Shiro thought to himself as he waited for Nero's response. Pliny whispered in the ArchGovernor's ear, sounding like he was both anxious and angry at the same time. _More politics_. _Just what I needed right now_. Mustang had warned him that Pliny was an ambitious creature, constantly undermining those he saw as potential rivals for her father’s favor. And it seemed as if the scar-less man had pegged Shiro as a potential obstacle to his own ambitions. Finally, the two Golden men finished their whispered discussion and the Martian governor turned to face the former Black Paladin.

“While my daughter and I do not see eye to eye,” Nero commented. “One thing which I will never dispute her over is her ability to recognize strenght and potential when she sees it. And that is something you have. I have enemies. They are strong, and they are many. Imperator Tiberius au Bellona, chief among them, has more than fifty nieces and nephews. He has nine children. That Goliath, Karnus, the eldest. Cassius, his favorite. His seed is strong. Mine is… less so. I had a son worth all of Tiberius’s put together. But Karnus killed him. Now I have two nieces. A nephew. A son. A daughter. And that is it. So, I collect apprentices.” Augustus paused, clearly still mourning his late son Claudius.

 “I told this to Darrow au Andromedus after his graduation from the Institute two years ago,” the man went on. “But his bloodfeud with Cassius au Bellona has become burdensome to my political and economic interests. Substantial revenue has been lost due to tariff increases to the Core, where much of the Bellona power base lies. Houses waver in their commitment to honoring deals made years ago at the trade table. As an act of reconciliation, I have decided to sell Andromedus’s contract to another house. My daughter may serve the Sovereign’s court, but I can see now why my daughter convinced me to hire you. You have the same rare breed of charisma as Darrow, without the baggage of bloodfeuds or other rivalries. As such, I will be upgrading your provisional contract and making you a full lancer of my house.”

“Thank you, my liege,” Shiro responded, kneeling to the floor, hating the deferential gesture as he did so. He didn't like the idea of bowing to someone like Nero, the man’s Darwinist outlook on life reminding him uncomfortably of his time as Zarkon’s prisoner. But, he also understood that the ArchGovernor's approval was essential to his continued employment. So, for as much time as was necessary, Shiro could swallow his anger and play along.

“I know you have spent a good deal of time with my daughter in the last several weeks,” Augustus continued. “But make no mistake. As head of House Augustus, your loyalty belongs to me, not my daughter. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, my liege,” Shiro replied, head bowed. “I live to serve.”

“Good," Nero commented, finishing the discussion. “Now, I suggest use the next three days to acquaint yourself with my other lancers and bannermen before we return to Mars. You are dismissed. You are dismissed.” Shiro nodded and thanked his new boss as he stood up and left the room. Once the door closed behind him, he wiped the sweat from his forehead and sighed in relief before another voice startled him out of his thoughts.

“Our ArchGovernor certainly has an intimidating presence, doesn't he?” Shiro turned to find a young man in the black pants black lancer’s uniform, leaning against the wall further down the hallway with his shirt unbuttoned to expose his chest. He had skin that looked like honeyed oak, and a small scar across his right cheek marking him as a Peerless Scarred and graduate of The Institute. Shiro knew he’d seen the man of holos from Mustang’s time in the Institute. But he’d been caught by surprise and for the life of him couldn’t remember which of Darrow’s lieutenants this man was.

“Slag intimidating,” Shiro remarked sarcastically as he headed towards the speaker, catching onto the humor in the other man's voice. Clearly, the former Black Paladin wasn't the only one who found his employer intimidating. “There were times in there when I thought I was about to be stepped on like an insect.”

“Don't we all,” the other man replied with a laugh. “New lancer, I take it? A shame. I’m sure you’re good enough for Augustus to find some value in you, but with Darrow being cut loose in a few days, I’m just sore Augustus decided to replace him already.”

“Yeah, Mustang told me about that,” Shiro replied. The man’s eyes widened in recognition.

“So Mustang’s the one who set you up with the job, eh?” The man replied. “Well, I’m sure Darrow won’t mind your presence as much, then. Care to join me for a drink?” Shiro thought about it for a moment. Mustang had a meeting to attend with the Sovereign, so there was no way for him to tag along with her activities that evening. He could go and work out in the Citadel training rooms by himself, but since Augustus also wanted him to mingle with the rest of the household, he couldn’t think of a reason to say no.

“Sounds prime, goodman,” he replied, offering his hand before introducing himself. “Shiro au Teranova.”

“Tactus au Rath,” his new co-worker replied as they shook his hand. “Hic Sunt Leones.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shiro's fake last name is a reference to Citra Terranova from the novel Scythe by Neal Shusterman.
> 
>  **Terminology:**  
>  **-Board of Quality Control:** The eugenics council dedicating to ensuring the "purity" of Gold genetics. This involves enforcing real-life infant mortality rates via The Exposure, to ensure that only the Golds who are worthy and strong enough survive.  
>  **The Exposure:** BQC practice where infants are left in the wilderness for three days to die. Only the ones who manage to survive are taken back to society and raised to adulthood.  
>  **-jamField:** A device that creates an invisible noise-cancelling shield that prevents any noise inside the field from being heard on the outside and deactivates any listening devices within it. Used by civilians for private conversations while soldiers frequently use it for stealth missions.  
>  **Peerless Scarred:** The Golds who graduated from the Institute and are considered the strongest, smartest, and toughest of humanity. Named for the facial scar they receive upon graduation from the Institute.


	8. The Afterbirth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updated 11/5/17: Condensed the main gala action into one chapter, and added a chapter giving some more focus to Shiro's first proper conversation with Tactus.

#### Hyperion

#### Luna

#### December 15th, 2840

The music of a violin drifted through the speakers of a nearby holochair as Tactus poured Shiro a glass of Venusian wine in the comfort of the younger lancer's private suite. Five years younger than Shiro, Tactus au Rath had come from a prominent Martian family infamous for the stream of raped and murdered rivals left in their wake. Shiro felt a little nervous upon learning the other man's lineage. On the one hand, his family had a reputation for poison and assassination, so the Black Paladin felt on edge around the man. On the other, Tactus had apparently gone out of his way to make Shiro feel welcome in the Augustus household and seemed like a decent person under all the snark and egotism. Shiro was just about to take a sip of wine when Tactus pulled out a tube of white powder and snorted it up his nose.

"Ah, much better," Tactus sighed as the narcotics entered his system. "After all that time at the Academy, I was growing weary of military crank. It's good to have access to respectable drugs again."  _Okay then,_ Shiro thought to himself.  _So Tactus evidently enjoys getting high. Come to think of it, he sounded a bit different while he was pouring our drinks. Was he coming down from his last high when he introduced himself?_

"How many of those have you had today?" Shiro asked, raising an eyebrow with a deadpan look on his face that said he wasn't sure he wanted to know the answer to his own question. The other lancer grabbed the bottle and took a seat on a couch in the suite's common room.

"Sadly, this is only my fifth," Tactus replied as he reclined on the couch and took a sip of his wine. Shiro blinked in surprise before he shrugged and took a sip of his own.  _Who am I to question someone's life choices with everything I've had to do to stay alive?_ He mused.  _It doesn't look like he'd take me seriously even if I did try to tell him it's a bad idea of mix substances like that._ Thankfully for Shiro, the wine did not turn out to be poison, so he relaxed his guard a bit. "I only overhead snippets of your conversation with the ArchGovernor while I was eavesdropping in the hall," Tactus added as he put his feet up on the small coffee table in front of him. "So, tell me. How does an orphaned Earthborn Gold manage to stay alive on the streets of lowColor slums for a decade?"

"Not alone, that's for sure," Shiro answered, deciding that if people were going to ask him personal questions like that it would be best to be as vague as possible while reframing his adventures with his teammates into something that Golds would be able to understand. "There were these lowColor kids who would bring me food whenever I couldn't afford to eat, or brought medical supplies after I got beat up by other Golds."  _Not exactly true, but similar enough to what happened after my escape that people won't start asking questions,_ he reassured himself.

"Really?" Tactus asked incredulously. "I can't imagine any lowColor doing that on Mars. Of course, I've never had to go down into the slums at all. My parents were rich enough that I spent all my time in Pearl clubs. My brothers tried to open one in Agea when they were fourteen, you know. It was a classy affair at first, before they got shut down over a few incidents of ruined sons and daughters, followed by the trademark Rath family trifecta of poison, dead heirs, and midnight duels." Shiro chuckled at the anecdote, finding some dark amusement at the fact that even a business built on Pink sex slaves could have more violence and rape than the amounts already inherent in that industry when the Rath family got involved.

"Nice taste in music by the way," Shiro commented, hoping to change the subject. Tactus looked away, uncomfortable. But Shiro noticed the blush on the other lancer's cheeks roused his curiosity.  _Did Tactus play this?_ He glanced around the room until his eyes found a closed violin case resting carefully on a table in the corner of the room. "Is this your playing?" he finally asked. Tactus didn't meet his eyes, but the other lancer did nod in confirmation. "It's really good," Shiro said as he put his wine down on the table. Tactus looked up in surprise at the complement.  _Can't imagine his family encouraged his talents,_ the Black Paladin mused.  _He probably doesn't really share things like this about himself._

"Trying to curry favor with my family, are we?" Tactus asked accusatorially, his eyes narrowed. Shiro flinched back at the suspicion in the other man's voice.  _Okay, his family life is clearly messed up if he's this suspicious of even a basic complement,_ he thought to himself. In the last two months, he'd gotten used to thinking that every Gold besides Mustang and the Telemanuses was a fanatic supporter of the hierarchy, but he'd never really thought about people who tried to be decent like Mustang but didn't have the luxury of family figures like the Telemanus clan. Now, he was beginning to see that the Gold regime fed on its own by forcing people to conform to certain standards of behavior as much as it fed on the labor and lives of the lower Colors.

"No," Shiro replied. "I was just paying you a complement. You're very talented." Tactus paused, as if he couldn't fathom the idea of someone being nice to him without some ulterior motive involved. The man leaned over and grabbed the bottle of wine before he tipped it back, chugging the entire bottle as he held up a finger gesturing for Shiro to wait until he had finished.

"Goryhell, now I see why Mustang got you a job," Tactus commented once he finished off the bottle, his voice beginning to slur from the sudden and substantial influx of alcohol. "You're just like Darrow. He always claims he doesn't have an ulterior motive in moments like this. It's maddening to be honest, and I wished he'd stop pretending to be so noble. My brothers taught me a long time ago that nobody does anything without an agenda." Shiro winced at the rebuke, feeling sympathy for the Gold sitting across from him. Tactus got up and pulled out another wine bottle, chugging it in the quiet

"Darrow got me that violin, you know," Tactus went, becoming more inebriated after that second bottle. "I had a Stradivarius as a child, and my brothers broke it for fun. When I told Darrow that story, he spent half his bank account on a Stradivarius violin from Quicksilver's auction house. When I asked him what it was for, he said if was for me to play. I asked him why he bought it, and all he said was that it was because we were friends. I walked away and tried to sell it, but after I did, I felt so guilty I didn't let the sale finalize and made the auction house cancel the sale. I've been practicing in private, trying to shake off some of the rust. I want to surprise him with a sonata."

"But he always takes me for granted," he added, pausing for his third bottle. "He says he's my friend, but he never tells me anything. He's always whispering with others, dismissing me like I'm a fool, he's just like her… Mother calls me the Mighty Servant now, and my brothers both tell me to get out of his shadow. But I still feel like Darrow's worth following. He always will be. I just can't stop trying to undermine him, like when I launched our escape pod at the Academy without him."  _I don't think Tactus' admiration of Darrow is just respect for another man's charisma,_ Shiro mused as he listened to Tactus tell more stories about his time with Darrow au Andromedus.  _I think Tactus might have a crush on Darrow._

****

"Not that I don't care – I do – but why tell me all this?" Shiro asked. He could understand if Tactus wanted someone to talk about his issues with, but he could tell from the way his co-worker acted when sober that he wasn't normally this talkative. If anything, Shiro doubted that Tactus ever really talked about his problems at all. He kind of reminded the Black Paladin of Lance in a way. But Tactus was more of a foil or a dark reflection of the Blue Paladin in a sense. Because while Lance hid his insecurities behind jokes and humor, Tactus masked his with drugs, alcohol, and an acerbic wit. "Why not just tell Darrow how you feel? He'd probably understand."

****

"I don't want him to see how weak I am," Tactus commented drunkenly after his third bottle of wine. "My brothers commed me after the Academy, kept trying to egg me into ditching Darrow. I told those shits to fuck off, but the messages from Mother aren't any better. Every message I get just pisses me off and I needed a chance to blow off steam. But Victra and Darrow are off Jove knows where, Roque's off at another symposium, and I ran into you before the Pinks I ordered got here. So don't try to get too attached to me, Teranova. The only reason you're hearing all this is champagne, boredom, and desperation."  _I know the feeling,_ the Black Paladin thought silently.  _I never wanted my team to see me when I was vulnerable. I guess the only difference really is that Tactus doesn't have the burden of leadership to deal with on top of his issues._

****

"I understand," Shiro replied with a nod. "The lowColor kids I hung out with back on Earth came to me whenever they needed someone to talk about things with. But I never felt comfortable sharing my problems with them. It was always more cathartic to explain things to an impartial stranger than have to deal with everyone's expectations of how we should behave." Tactus nodded, apparently understanding what Shiro was saying. Shiro moved to sit on the couch next to Tactus in case the other lancer got drunk enough that he either wanted a hug or else became too inebriated to stay awake. But before either of them could say anything more, a knock came and startled them out of their quiet conversation.

****

"Dominus au Rath," the voice of one of the Grays called through the door of the suite. "Your Roses have arrived." Tactus perked up almost immediately.

****

"Fabulous," he remarked. If Shiro hadn't known any better, he wouldn't have thought Tactus had sounded like he was too drunk to stand a few seconds ago. As it was, Tactus only stumbled once as he made his way towards the door and let three young men and women around their ages file into the room. All six had hair in various shades of pink, marking their caste clearly for anyone who looked at their eyes and sigils.  _Sex slaves,_ Shiro thought bitterly as Tactus stripped off his shirt and started outlining instructions to the Pinks.

****

"I was setting up an orgy for tonight when I ran into you," Tactus explained to Shiro as he shut the door and began unbuckling his pants. "I rented six of the best boys and girls from The Gardens. Care to join me?" Inwardly, Shiro grimaced at the thought. The entire existence of the Pink caste appalled him to no end. While Pinks, like Reds did fill multiple roles as servants, the main job available to them was the life of a sex slave. The fact that Tactus could speak about renting fellow human beings purely for a few hours of drunken group sex so casually rankled him. But he still had to maintain his cover, so he politely declined as he beat a hasty retreat from the room, closing the door just as Tactus threw off his underwear and flopped down on the bed.

****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of Tactus's lines about his mother, Darrow, and his violin are quoted from the middle of Golden Son and rearranged a bit.


	9. Red

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Update 11/4/17:** I've condensed the main action portions of the gala into a single chapter, and I've expanded upon the pre-bloodbath portions of the event to flesh things out more.

#### Hyperion

#### Luna

#### December 18th, 2840

Shiro released a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding as he finished coming his hair in the washroom of the Augustan villa. He'd finished reapplying a fresh round of gold dye to his hair the previous day, but he still wanted to make sure his dark roots were hidden from view as much as possible. If someone noticed that his hair wasn't naturally Gold, they would start asking questions that he wouldn't be able to answer. As a lancer for House Augustus, he had to enter with the ArchGovernor's entourage when they arrived at the gala, but he'd managed to avoid interacting with the rest of the household thus far by hiding in the bathroom fixing his hair. He glanced at his datapad and sighed. It was almost time for the entourage to leave for the gala.

 _Might as well go outside and wait for the rest of the group,_ he thought to himself as he put down the comb and took one last look at himself in the mirror before he left the room and joined the last stragglers making their way towards the front door. He stepped outside to find Darrow, Tactus, and Victra standing at the rear of the gathering crowd while their mutual employer stood at the head of the group. Like Shiro, Darrow wore his black military uniform, while Victra wore a dress that would have been considered scandalously revealing by twenty-first century standards. While Shiro had only known the man for a few days, he couldn't help but notice how sullen Darrow seemed that evening. The man still bantered with his friends and laughed at everyone's jokes, but Shiro had seen Lance mask his own insecurities with humor enough times for Shiro to recognize when a laugh was intended to cover up what someone was really feeling.  _From what Tactus was telling me earlier, he seemed normal before the household arrived on Luna,_ Shiro observed silently.  _So, whatever has gotten into him has to be something else that happened in the last three days._

But that was a problem to solve later, as he turned to see an aircar taxi for a landing in front of the villa. He kept his expression carefully neutral as Mustang's twin brother exited the hovercar, faint patches of pink skin on his body indicating a recent medical skin grafting. Despite his curiosity over what had happened to the ArchGovernor's son in the last few days, he didn't want to risk attracting the younger man's attention. The Jackal greeted his father with a comment that the Family Augustus should arrive at the gala with at least one of the ArchGovernor's children to present a united front to their enemies. The ArchGovernor and his son exchanged passive-aggressive verbal jabs at each other about the latter's presence before the Jackal fell in line with a sinister sneer in Darrow's direction.

With everyone in the party accounted for, they set off for the gala. Shiro stood near the middle of the long procession with Tactus as the Augustan household snaked its way through labyrinthine marble halls from their villa to the Citadel Gardens two kilometers away. The Sovereign's tower jutted from the floor of the garden there, a grand, two-kilometer-high sword piercing a groomed garden thick with rose trees and streams. Water ran through the garden in a thousand winding paths, while babbling brooks with colored fish lead to quiet lagoons where carved Pink mermaids swam under flowering trees crawling with monkey-cats, and angry tigerlynx lounged below the boughs.

Violets wandered through the bright woods, flitting here and there like moths, their violins echoing in eerie concert. It was, to Shiro's eye, like a bacchanal painting without the nudity common in classical art. Shiro caught sight of other processions through the trees, family standards glimpsed as flashes of moving fabric and metal. The red and gold lion of Augustus roared in a silent challenge, while a raven on a field of silver marked the passing of the Falthe family over a cobblestone bridge. Shiro kept his face relaxed, but the rest of the house eyed Lord Falthe and his lancers warily. Everyone carried razors tonight as a matter of course, but all other technology was prohibited from the gala. No datapads, no gravBoots, no armor. Shiro shivered at the reminder that he'd be quickly torn apart in the unlikely – but still possible – event that a fight broke out at the dinner. He hadn't felt this defenseless since the gladiator arena. But there was nothing he could do to fix that, so he had no option except to play along for the time being.

The tower yawned above the procession, moss of three different colors climbing the base of the great structure with vines of a thousand hues, wrapping the glass and stone like the fingers of greedy bachelors around the wrist of a rich widow. Six great lifts bore families skyward to the top of the tower. Beautiful Pink servants and Brown footmen serviced the lift, Gold triangles of the Society decorating their all-white livery. The lift was a flat slab of marble with gravthrusters on the bottom, sitting in the middle of a clearing while green grass fluttered in the wind. Several Coppers rushed forward to speak with Pliny, who spoke on the ArchGovernor's behalf, as befitting his duties as his master's chief Politico. From what Shiro could see, there appeared to be some confusion, and the Falthe family slid into the lift ahead of the Augustan entourage.

"This is a social trap," The Black Paladin heard Augustus mutter back to Leto, his favorite ward. "The fools. See how they feign accident. Soon they will tell us we must use the lift with the Falthes, when instead they should grovel to have us go before them."

"Could it not be an accident?" Leto asked.

"Not on Luna," Augustus replied, crossing his arms. "Everything is political." Having lived there for a few months, Shiro was inclined to agree with his employer.

"The winds shift," Leto commented.

"They've been shifting for some time now," Augustus murmured, surveying his aids as if making an accounting of the razors they all carried. Shiro and many of the lancers older than himself wore their blades coiled at their sides. Others, like Darrow, wore them wrapped around their forearms, while Tactus and a woman by the name of Victra au Julii each used theirs as makeshift sashes. Leto turned back to address the other warriors of House Augustus

"I want three lancers attending the ArchGovernor at all times," the man announced, keeping his voice quiet to avoid being overheard by the Falthe retinue. Everyone nodded as the pack formation tightened. "No drinking," Leto added.  _Not like I was going to anyway,_ Shiro thought to himself. Although he couldn't keep a smug smirk off his face when Tactus groaned in protest. His mirth faded as he watched the Jackal. Mustang's brother didn't change his expression as he watched Leto give orders, and Shiro couldn't help but shiver. Soon, Pliny returned from speaking with the Citadel staff. As Augustus predicted, the entourage was to share the lift with the Falthes. Their Obsidian and Gray enforcers would have to remain behind, however.

"All families are to proceed to the gala without attendants," the Politico explained. "No bodyguards." Murmurs rippled through the Augustan ranks, concerned about attending a dinner party without their bodyguards.  _If assassination attempts at dinner parties are that common,_ Shiro thought.  _I'm afraid to find out what it's like when they're really trying to kill each other without hiding behind decorum._

"Then we won't go," the Jackal said.

"Don't be a fool," Augustus replied.

"Your son is right," Leto commented. "Nero, the danger – "

"Some invitations are more dangerous to decline than to accept," Augustus remarked before making a cutting motion to his Stained, Alfrun and Jopho. The two men nodded silently and joined the other Obsidian to the side. Genuine worry filled the slave knights' eyes as the Augustans joined the Falthes on the lift and ascended toward the gala. The head of House Falthe smiled as his station improved.  _At least the Obsidian won't get hurt if anything happens at the gala,_ Shiro thought to himself, taking a small measure of comfort that fewer lowColors would be endangered should hostilities break out.

The banquet area on the roof of the Sovereign's tower was modeled as a winter wonderland. Snow fell from invisible clouds, dusting the spear-like pine trees of man-made forests, and frosting everyone's hair with snowflakes that tasted like cinnamon and orange. Trumpet calls heralded the arrival of ArchGovernor Augustus and his entourage. Shiro followed Tactus's lead as he and some of the younger lancers stepped in front to cut off the Falthes, obstructing their path so Nero and his party could enter the gala first. The Augustus household was a body of pale gold and blood red as they moved into the landscape of snowy evergreens, where the pride of Gold culture awaited.

Beneath the spire, the Citadel complex sprawled outward, and the millions of lights from nearby cities glistened beyond the grounds. Large chandeliers hovered overhead on small gravthrusters. Light sparkled and dresses moved like liquid around perfect human forms. Pinks served hors d'oeuvres, appetizers, and alcoholic beverages on plates and in goblets made of glass and ice. Hundreds of long tables spread concentrically outward around a frozen lake in the center of the winter landscape. Artificially carved mythical creatures moved beneath the ice, while Pinks glided around on ice skates to serve their Golden masters. The sigils of each family marked the tables, rather than names or numbers, and Shiro soon found a miniature lion seated on the center of the Augustan table amid the griffins, ice fists, eagles, and iron swords of other Aureate families.

While Tactus was busy feeding the carved lion, Shiro took a seat a few chairs away from the center. Nero claimed the seat at the head of the table as patriarch of House Augustus, while the leaders of the minor houses serving as his vassals sat around him. Agrippina au Julii took the seat to the left of Mustang's brother, Adrius, while Kavax au Telemanus, father of Mustang's friend Pax and the man whose influence helped shape her worldview, took the seat that would have been Mustang's. The lancers sat towards the middle, and Shiro claimed a chair at the edge of the group. While Mustang might trust many of these people, he was still nervous about interacting with other Golds, so he sat on the fringe.

He watched in silence as Quaestors, Judiciars, Governors, Senators, family heads, house leaders, traders, two Olympic Knights, and thousands of others came to wish Augustus a good evening. These older men talked of Outrider attacks on Uranus and Ariel, a foolish rumor of a new Rage Knight already gaining the armor. Mysterious Sons of Ares bases on Triton, and a resurgent strain of plague on one of Earth's dark continents. Light fare, from their perspective. But Shiro listened to everything he could, soaking up whatever information on the Sons of Ares he could get and filing it away for future reference. He was grateful to Mustang for helping him survive this long, but having to pretend to be a Gold, to enforce a caste system that practiced slavery, sickened him every day. The sooner he could be out there actively attempting to change things, the better he would feel.

Soon, Shiro's attention was drawn to the Sovereign herself. It felt strange to see the woman responsible for maintaining this oppressive system so close. She looked human and frail as she stood with her Furies just beyond the dance floor, speaking with other house lords, men and women who ruled and subjugated the lives of billions. Her face looked as impassive as a mountain's, and Shiro could tell, even without being able to hear what she was saying, that her power was in silence as well as words. Her speech was clearly seldom, but she always listened to words the way a mountain listened to the whispering and screaming of wind through its crags and around its peaks.

As he looked around, he noticed Mustang glide into the gala out of the lift near the edge of the fake forest like a ghost, her dress black amid a sea of red, white, and gold. She rolled her eyes, twisting her smirking mouth at the heads all turning in her direction to stare at her black funeral gown, chosen, like his own dark clothing, to show disdain for all the merry Golds around her. Shiro couldn't help but notice that Darrow's military uniform was black and well and chuckled at the accidental color coordination between the three of them. Cassius escorted her into the room, his hand on her waist as he whispered into her ear. Shiro's heart sank. He wished Mustang would stop her charade in pretending to be interested in Cassius, but he understood why she did it. Even if it was wrong, she had been raised to do whatever it took to protect her family's interests. He didn't agree with it, but he could not fault her logic that getting close to the Bellona through Cassius was the best way for a political mind like her to keep her enemies close.

Cassius looked absolutely stunning that evening. His hair was thick and lustrous. His chin cleft and hands steady. His shoulders powerful and made for war. His face made for melting hearts in the Sovereign's court. Shiro raised an eyebrow as he noticed the rising sun of the Morning Knight emblazoned on the younger man's clothing. Whispers ripped through the party, confirming the rumors that the Sovereign had made Cassius one of the twelve. Darrow may have won their year at the Institute, but Cassius had risen higher on the social ladder, tearing through Luna's Dueling Circuit like a man possessed. Shiro had watched several of his matches in person with Mustang, seeing him stalk around the Bleeding Place as other Golds lay near death. But here and now, the new Olympic Knight dazzled and charmed, his face split with a white smile.

A sad smile worked its way onto Shiro's face. Leaving aside his issues with Mustang's relationship, Cassius wasn't really such a bad guy. Despite his blood feud with Darrow, Cassius was actually a pleasant person to talk to.  _He might even be Paladin material,_ Shiro thought to himself.  _If only he could look past himself and see the big picture of all the evil his society supports_. Shiro's mood soured, however, when he felt someone staring at him and turned to find himself looking at the Jackal's analytic gaze.

Shiro fought to keep himself from shuddering. He'd heard stories from Mustang about her brother and seen the holos of what earned Adrius au Augustus his moniker _. Guess I should add cannibalism to the list of things I hate about the Institute_ , was what he'd said at the time. As punishment for his killing of Pax au Telemanus at the Institute, Adrius had been cut off from the family and kicked out of his father's house. Word from Tactus and the others was that he had gone on to start a career in media manipulation. The idea that the Jackal might be interested in digging into his backstory chilled Shiro to the bone. Thankfully, the ArchGovernor's son was soon distracted by a Pink offering him a tray of food, and Shiro went back to looking around. Eventually, all the Golds took their seats and formalities began in earnest. Tactus and Victra took note of the absence of Darrow's empty chair as Pinks began to deliver food to everyone's table.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Background Info:**  
>  Shiro knows about most of what happened at the Institute either from Mustang or from the fact that everything the students do is recorded for potential recruiters to watch.
> 
>  **Terminology:**  
>  **-Bleeding Place:** Gold slang referring to the makeshift arenas in which duels are fought.  
>  **-Aegis:** A semi-transparent, arm-mounted energy shield used in combat and honor duels.  
>  **Kravat:** A style of martial arts favored by Golds to help hone their skills with a razor.


	10. Blood for Blood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> # Part II: Break
> 
> # "If you're a fox, play the hare.
> 
> # If you're the hare, play the fox."
> 
> # Lorn au Arcos

#### Hyperion

#### Luna

#### December 18th, 2840

While Octavia began her opening address, Shiro noticed Darrow stalking back into the dining area. He ducked beneath the Augustus table and scrounged around on the ground for a minute before emerging with a Pegasus pendant. He put it in his pockets and straightens his jacket. Pliny hissed the young lancer's name as Darrow ignored the questioning glances and boldly moved away from the table towards one that had clearly captured his attention. Shiro was as stunned as everyone else in the Augustus household as Darrow weaved through the tables seating all the noble families, gathering eyes the way a stone rolling down a mountain collected snow. But the confused stares only added to the infamous young man's velocity.

His gait was careless, hands coiled with danger. Thousands watched the man who conquered the Institute of Mars and whispers formed a cloak behind him as they realized his target. Cassius sat at the long Bellona table, surrounded by his family. He behaved like the perfect Gold attentively listening to his Sovereign speak of unity, order, and tradition. No one rose to challenge Darrow, either because they didn't understand, or because they felt the force of him now and didn't dare to move. The Bellona clan finally noticed the whispers, and the family of over fifty turned as one to see Darrow, a martial man, dressed in black. He's young and untested in war, unbloodied beyond the halls of the Institute and the asteroids of the Academy. Some thought him mad, and others brave, but tonight, he appeared to be both. The Sovereign's voice faltered, and Darrow smiled.

Then, the gala went dead silent as the Reaper sprang thirty feet in the low gravity and landed hard on the Bellona table. Dishes cracked, servants scattered, and Bellona fall back. Some shouted at him, while others don't move even as their wine spills all over their expensive clothes. The Sovereign watched with a look of curiosity, her Furies stirring at her side. Pliny gripped his knees in panic, looking as if he's about to have a heart attack. Beside him, The Jackal wore a strange and unreadable expression on his face. Porcelean shattered as Darrow walked along the table, shattering pudding dishes and squashing steaks beneath his thick, heavy boots.

"I'll have your attention," Darrow declared. "You may know me." Shiro noticed the other Golds in the room chuckling nervously. Mustang had explained to him that the major Gold families knew everyone of worth. Although apparently, Darrow's was more rumor than substance. At least to those who do not know him personally. Time to see if he lives up to his reputation, I guess, Shiro thought to himself as the young lancer continued. "Do I have your attention?"

"BOY, SIT DOWN!" Someone shouted from across the room, although Shiro couldn't see who it is from this angle.

"Make him!" snapped the drunken voice of Tactus au Rath. "No? That's what I surmised." No one else bothered to repeat the man's mistake. With all eyes and ears turned in his direction, Darrow continued.

"For those of you who do not know me," the young man went on. "I am a lancer of the House of Augustus, for another hour or so." He paused as the crowd laughed. "I am the one they call the Reaper of Mars, who struck down a full Peerless Knight, who stormed Olympus and made slaves of my Proctors. My name is Darrow au Andromedus, and I have been wronged. We Peerless Scarred come from Golden ancestors. From conquerors with spines of iron. Honorable men, honorable women. But before you today, I see a family that is dishonorable. A family with spines made of chalk. A corrupt and fraudulent family of liars and cowards that conspires to steal my master's Governorship, illegally."

Shiro cast a glance at Mustang over at the Bellona table as Darrow crushed a serving plate with his boots. They knew that the Sovereign was planning to give the ArchGovernorship of Mars to the Bellona family, but Octavia had yet to reveal her hand. Did Darrow know? The Bellona looked like wolves about to pounce with the murderous looks on their faces. Family matriarch Julia au Bellona's right hand trembled, as though aching for a knife to stab the man with.

"Twice, I have been wronged by this family," Darrow continued. "Once in the mud of the Institute. Again, at the Academy by that one… and this one... and that one..." He paused to point out the members of the Bellona clan who had attacked him at the academy two months ago, before striding forward to the edge of the wine decanter sitting in front of Cassius. "All courts of Golden law permit a man to defend his honor against any force that would desecrate it unjustly. From the old lands of Earth to the icy bowels of Pluto, the right of challenge exists for any man and any woman. My name, gentle lords, and ladies, is Darrow au Andromedus. My honor has been pissed upon. And I demand satisfaction." And with that, the young man tipped the wine down into Cassius' lap.

Shiro barely had time to blink before Cassius exploded up at Darrow. Golds all over the room burst up from their seats in a thundering roar. Tactus rushed over from the Augustus table, followed by Leto, Victra, and all the other aids and bannermen of the Martian ArchGovernor's vassals – House Corvos, the Julii, House Voloxes, the Telemanus family… Whips uncurled into blades as every Gold in the room drew their razor. A crossfire of cursing shattered the cold air. Even Shiro couldn't help but activate his razor, if only to protect himself and Mustang from the furious crowds.

"STOP THIS MADNESS!" Aja roared as she leaned down from the Sovereign's table. But it was already too late. The challenge had been issued, the tension raised to a boiling point just on the edge of tipping over.  _Whatever Darrow's doing_ , Shiro thought to himself as he watched the chaos unfold,  _it's only just begun_.

It took half an hour for the combined efforts of the Furies, the Olympic Knights, and the Praetorian Guard to calm the raging crowds. With the challenge issued, there was no other legal option but to allow Darrow and Cassius to duel. Countless Golds clustered around a large circular area while Citadel Browns removed the tables and Octavia gave a speech. About how martial duels mark the greatness of their race, so she would make an exception for the day, permitting the two young men to duel beyond the gaming grounds. She said this blood feud needed to be put to rest there and then, before the august of humanity.  _She's really confidant that Cassius will win this_ , Shiro observed silently in the privacy of his own mind.  _Although she probably wouldn't have allowed this to go so far if her advisors hadn't assured her of a beneficial outcome_.

"Unlike the cowards of old," the Sovereign recited dramatically. "We settle flesh to flesh. Bone to bone. Blood to blood. Vendettas die in the Bleeding Place virtue et armis."  _By valor and arms_ , Shiro mentally translated the Latin by reflex now after two months living among the Golds. "As it was with our ancestors," Octavia continued. "It is now and again to the death. Are there any contentions?" Neither Cassius nor Darrow said anything. Mustang stepped forward to object, but Aja, the Fury, shook her head and stopped the young Augustan.

"Then today," the Sovereign finished, "res, non verba."  _Actions, not words_ , Shiro repeated in his head. Browns carted away the tables from the snowy plain. Pliny hovered beside the ArchGovernor, along with Leto, Tactus, Victra, and the great Martian Praetors. So many famous faces – warriors and politicians alike – crowded around the head of House Augustus. The Jackal stood farther away, shorter than the rest, his face impassive, and speaking to no one. Mustang stood near Cassius' side of the circle, where all the members of House Bellona present gathered. Shiro stood halfway between the warring families. Close enough to be within arm's reach of his employer, but also close enough to rush to Mustang's aid should Darrow win, and the Bellona try to take their anger out on her.

Though Shiro couldn't hear the words over the din of the crowd, he could still grasp the meaning. After a conversation in which Darrow managed to convince Nero to support the duel by telling the man what he wanted to hear, the young Gold pulled a knife from his boot and made a quick cut beneath his eyes, the blood falling like tears. Silence fell as the crowd witnessed the ancient blessing. Shiro clearly recognized it from his education of this era as a pre-war benediction from the age of the iron ancestors, the Conquerors. It was a Martian blessing of iron and blood. Of the ragging ships that burned the Britannic Armada above Earth's North Pole, and dashed the fastkillers from Japan among the asteroid belt. Nero's eyes lit up like dormant coals reignited into an open flame.

Shiro was too far away to hear what Augustus said as the ArchGovernor touched his finger to Darrow's blood and then pressed the mark beneath his own eye, but he understood the intent behind them. Whispers echoed throughout the crowd as Darrow stood up from his knees. Even though Shiro was not born in this time, even he could recognize the significance of the old Martian blessing. This was not some cafeteria fight between two angsty teenage boys. It was a battle of houses, champion against champion.

"Hic Sunt Leones," Nero said to Darrow, part benediction, part challenge for the young lancer to stay in his good graces, knowing he stood playing with matches on a powder keg.  _Here be lions,_  Shiro translated in his mind.  _Ironic given my status as Paladin of the Black Lion. Lions are starting to become a recurring theme in my life_.

"Hic Sunt Leones," Darrow echoed before he paced back to the center of the circle as both families began the final preparations. Mustang walked over to him as Cassius' mother kissed her son's forehead. Shiro took a few steps out of earshot so he wouldn't be eavesdropping on their conversation, but kept his eyes on the pair so he could at least follow their facial expressions and body language. He sighed when Mustang flinched before curling her lips into a small sneer.  _Clearly, Darrow said something to piss her off,_ he thought to himself. Despite Darrow's presumably harsh words, Shiro had seen Hunk's desperation to save Shay early in their career as paladins enough to recognize the look in the man's eyes. It was the look of someone desperately in love. And Shiro was beginning to realize the biggest obstacle to Mustang and Darrow getting together again was whatever awkward tension was keeping Darrow on the defensive and lashing out. In any case, Mustang cocked her head at him, smiling sadly as she spared a glance at the two thousand Peerless waiting around them. Her bright golden eyes cut through him, searching, judging.

As they quietly argued, likely about their respective career choices, Shiro noticed the fact that Darrow won't meet Mustang's eyes.  _Clearly, you two care about each other_ , Shiro thought as he cradled his head in his hand.  _But for some reason Darrow is gorydamn terrible at communicating_ , _and this will blow up in both of your faces if you don't just sit in a room and talk this out._  He sighed as Mustang looked like she was about to say something deep, but instead she just shook her head and turned away.  _Goryhell,_  he thought to himself.  _So help me I will lock you two in a broom closet together if that's what it takes for you both to get over this gorydamn communication barrier_. Mustang walked past Cassius, hands in front of her before she joined the Sovereign's entourage on Octavia's raised dais.

Darrow and Cassius bantered as the White rushed forward, hustling as fast as his long robes and crooked back would allow him. Cassius said something to Darrow low enough that none but the two of them could here, but afterward the Augustan lancer asked the question that Shiro and Mustang were certain will strike a nerve. An expression of regret crossed Cassius' face for a moment, and Shiro could tell that it had something to do with his deceased twin.  _Way to rub salt in the wound, Darrow,_ Shiro commented to himself as the banter between the twenty-year-old men continued. The Morning Knight uncoiled his razor and ignited his aegis as Darrow's last comment struck another nerve. The Reaper activated his own in turn, snow melting as he swept it near the ground. A corona of haze formed around its blue light.

"We are all devils," Carrius laughed, speaking loud enough for the crowd to hear him now "This was always your problem, Darrow. You have an inflated view of yourself. You think you have some sort of morality tucked away. You think you are better than us, when really you are less. Forever playing games you cannot master, against people you cannot match."

"I matched Julian well enough," Darrow retorted.

"BASTARD!" Cassius snapped as his face contorted in anger. He charged forward, bellowing wordlessly, knocking Darrow back before the White can give the pre-battle benediction. Everyone shouted for the two of them to stop, but as the razors scream, the shouting faded away and all eyes widened as lethal metal seers through the slowly falling snow. Shiro rested his head in his hand. This is not going to end well for anyone tonight, he thought, and he could tell from looking back towards the dais that Mustang was thinking the same thing. Cassius slipped into the tenets of Kravat. Four seconds of precise, kinetic violence. Retreat. Assess. Engage.

There was no sound in the Bleeding Place, save for those of combat. The high-pitched keen of arching whips. The thrum of solid blades. The crack as aegisis on left arms spark white when blades slash into them. The crunching of snow and the creaking of leather. Even a Kravat novice like Shiro could tell that despite his anger, Cassius's form was perfect. His feet never crossed as they shuffle acround the ring. His hips swiveled as he lunged into compact salvos. His breath was measured and paced. His whip lashed forward in a sweep, then the blade hardened and swung up, aiming for Darrow's groin. His movements flickered fast, belying his training honed by masters and Swords of the Society. It's easy even for Shiro to see why he's devastated all his opponents since childhood. Why he managed to gut Darrow at the Institute. It's because his enemies fight the same way he does, only slower.

"You've been practicing," Cassius remarked to Darrow as he drew back. "You can match six moves a set. But you're still a novice." He darted forward, feinting high and sweeping low to aim for Darrow's ankle. He sent a flurry of seven blows at his opponent, almost skewering Darrow through the right shoulder. The young man barely escaped, throwing himself out of the way of a thrust at the last moment. Two more sets of seven came in quick succession. The once famed Reaper barely escaped the last one, falling to one knee, panting, and looking around at the gathered spectators.

"Do you hear that?" the Morning Knight asked rhetorically. But there is no sound but the wind. "That is the sound of dying alone. No one to weep. No one to care." Darrow whispered something the crowd could not make out between ragged breaths. But Cassius could hear it, if the way he stiffened in shock is anything to go by. "What did you say?" he asked, clearly not believing whatever it is he heard.

"Lorn au Arcos will care if his last student dies," Darrow said, louder this time as he stood, no longer panting, his body straightening proudly as the act fell away.  _Wow_ , Shiro thought, stunned at how easily everyone had fallen for Darrow deliberately holding back.  _If it weren't for the fact that nobody in this era reads The Princess Bride anymore, I would have expected Darrow to be fighting left handed_.

"While you ate, I trained," Darrow continued. "While you drank, I trained. While you sought pleasure, I trained from the weeks after the Institute to the days before the Academy."

"Lorn au Arcos doesn't accept students," Cassius hissed, still stunned by the revelation. "Not for thirty years."

"He made an exception," Darrow replied.

"LIAR!" Cassius snapped.

"Oh?" Darrow laughed. "Did you think I came here to be killed? Did you think yourself entitled to my life? No, Cassius. I came here to cut you down before your parents." As Cassis stepped backward, eyes dancing to his father and older brother, Shiro couldn't help but be impressed with Darrow's ability to manipulate everyone's expectations and plans. "Come now, brother," Darrow called to Cassius. "Don't you want to see how well I can really fight?" The Morning Knight paused, and Darrow charged him like a predator going in for the kill, shoulders hunched with primeval economy, quiet at the night itself. Darrow went for the legs, sending in seven seconds of sets into him, then six.

Whenever Cassius tried to counterattack, Darrow moved to the side until he could break him, utilizing Lorn au Arcos' signature fighting style, "The Willow Way" to flow around his opponent to create new angles of attack. His blade flashed between a whip and a curved sickle, crashing into Cassius' sword and aegis. The Bellona faltered, like a prizefighter being pummeled by a back-alley brawler. Darrow laughed madly as the crowd cheers and screams. Sparks hiss when Cassius' aegis overloads. A wound was ripped open there, on the man's elbow. Then his kneecap. Then his ankle. Darrow flicked the blade up and slashed Cassius's face, then stopped and moved back fluidly, posing with his blade so that those watching would never forget. Old lovers of Cassius screamed for him, and all around the ring, Shiro could feel the tension between Bellona and Augustus rapidly approaching a boiling point.  _Is he trying to start a war?_  Shiro wondered incredulously as Darrow continued to embarrass his opponent.

"Your son is going to die," Darrow said savagely to Cassius' father, Imperator Tiberius au Bellona, as he circled the ring to stand in front of the Bellona patriarch. "Will you just watch?" he turned to shout at the rest of the Bellona clan. Tiberius maintained his composure even as his eyes simmered with the promise of tears, but his wife wasn't so noble, seething as she glanced accusatorily at the Sovereign, desperately begging for Octavia to intervene.

"Lady Bellona, are you noble enough to watch your Cassius die?" Darrow asked the matriarch of House Bellona as he circled his opponent. "Watch as he disappears from the world? Is that the strength of House Bellona? Do you watch like sheep as the wolf comes among the fold?" The more Darrow acted like what Mustang said he wasn't, the more Shiro began to suspect that Darrow might actually be part of the Sons of Ares. His behavior before the gala and his behavior now were too different for there to not be a reason for him to antagonize the Bellona.

 _But what if that's the point?_  Shiro realized as he had an epiphany.  _Golds aren't afraid of the lowColors revolting against them_. _What scares them is the idea of their government collapsing through infighting and decadence_. _And if two of the most powerful families in the Solar system start going for each other's throats_ , _it'll snowball into a system-wide civil war_. Cagney au Bellona, urged on by her aunt, had already taken a step forward. Her sharp, pretty face was riven with rage. But before she could try to break into the ring, Imperator Bellona jerked her back with a stern hand. He glared darkly at Nero, then peered around the assembly.

"No Bellona shall interfere," he declared. "On my honor." But his wife clearly disagreed, aiming one last pointed glance at the dais before the Sovereign raised her hand.

"Hold!" Octavia called out as she raised a hand. "Hold, Andromedus!" Stunned at the blatant favoritism for the Bellona family, all eyes turned to the Sovereign's dais. Her interruption only confirmed the rumors that brought Mustang to Luna in the first place. Cassius would have been important to the Sovereign's plans for the Bellona to supplant the Augustuses on Mars. And now, because of the terms of the duel and her miscalculation in predicting the outcome, he's about to die and her plans are about to go down the drain. What is she trying to do then? Shiro wondered, thinking what everyone else in the crowd was thinking.

"These has been an addendum to the rules," Octavia declared, glancing at Cassius's mother. "Since the White was unable to give the customary benediction, the contest will be to death or yielding. Those are the limits to the duel. So many of our prized children are lost at our schools. No need to waste these two prime men on account of schoolyard pranks."

"My Sovereign," Augustus protested, clearly greedy for whatever prize Darrow has promised him. "The law is clear. Once a contest is declared, the rules may not be altered by man or woman."

"You cite laws," the Sovereign retorted. "That's a pleasant irony, coming from you, Nero." The crowd snickered, reminding Shiro of the fact that his employer rigged the Institute so that his son would win.

"My Sovereign, we stand with Augustus in this matter," boomed another voice. Daxo au Telemanus, Kavax's eldest son, stepped forward. Golden angel tattoos covered his bald head, and a mischievous sparkle danced in his sleepy eyes hidden under great swirling eyebrows.

"Hardly a surprise," the Bellona matriarch snarled.

"Perfidy!" Kavax roared, alternating between stroking his forked red beard and the large pet fox he cradled in his left arm. "This reeks of perfidy and favoritism. My temper is slow, but I find myself offended. Offended!"

"Careful, Kavax," Octavia warned coldly. "Some things cannot be unsaid."

"Why else would he say them?" Daxo retorted, glancing at the noble families from the Gas Giants, knowing that he will find allies among them in this debate. "But I believe he would counsel you now, my Sovereign: even your words cannot change law. Your father discovered this by your own hand, no?" Shiro grimaced, recalling from his education how Octavia took power by decapitating her tyrannical father. But it seems she's become just as big a tyrant as he was, the Black Paladin thought to himself as he watched everything unfold. The Furies step forward menacingly. For her part, the Sovereign only offered a small smile in response.

"But, young Telemanus," she replied. "You fail to remember; my word is law." The crowd tensed in response. And there goes any chance of this whole thing ending well, Shiro remarked inside his head. One thing he'd quickly learned from Gold history is that this was something you just do not do. A Gold may rule other Golds, but declare your rule at your own peril. The Sovereign had sat on the Morning Throne for so long that she had clearly forgotten this. Her words are not law. Instead, they now become a challenge. Octavia clearly recognized her words as a mistake when she met Darrow's eyes, and everyone in the crowd realized that there is only one move the lancer can make that she can't counter.

"You will not steal what is mine!" Darrow growled as he wheeled on Cassius. The young Morning Knight brought up his blade. His face went pale as Darrow charges, thinking of everything he's about to lose. How precious his own life was. Golds on the Bellona side of the crowd shouted at Darrow to stop, screaming that it was unfair.  _They were just about to let him die five minutes ago_ , Shiro commented inwardly, disgusted by the hypocrisy. Cassius might be somewhat decent for a Gold, but as far as their own laws are concerned, they have no right to complain about it being unfair. The Olympic Knight feinted at Darrow's throat, then whipped his razor down to wrap around his opponent's leg, expecting Darrow to recoil. Instead, the young Reaper charged straight at him, inside the arch of his swing, jumped over his head in the low gravity, and then swung his whip backwards without looking.

Darrow's whip coiled around Cassius's extended right arm. He pressed the button to make the razor contract, and with the sound of a frozen tree branch cracking in winter, he claimed the sword arm of Cassius au Bellona. It's hard for Shiro to tell which is louder: the silence or the screams. When Darrow finally turned around, Cassius was still standing, teetering, and clearly not long for this world. The Black Paladin found himself feeling a stab of pity for the Bellona. Everyone was motionless as Cassius falls to the ground, not dead yet, but too weak to stand. His father looked silently at the ground in sorrow.

"I SAID STOP!" The Sovereign shouted. Two Furies leaped from the dais, landing with their blades in hand.

"FINISH IT!" Augustus commanded. Cassius spat at Darrow, lips trembling, as his foe stalked towards him. Darrow raised his blade for the killing strike, but before he can deal the final blow, Shiro let out a silent sigh in relief as Mustang's hand settled around the Reaper's wrist.

"You've won, Darrow," she said quietly, coming around in front of him so their eyes meet. The Furies paused outside the circle, and Shiro discreetly moved to put himself between them and Mustang. "Don't lose yourself to this," she told her friend. After several seconds, Darrow's hand fell to his side. And although he couldn't see her, Shiro knew that Mustang was likely smiling. "There you are," he heard her whisper to Darrow.

"KILL HIM!" Cassius's mother screamed. "KILL HIM NOW!"

"NO!" Her husband roared, but it's already too late. Mustang's eyes widened as the circle of Golds dissolved, crumbling inward as if it were made of sand. One Bellona sprinted towards Darrow in silence, low and deadly. Another one followed. Then Shiro darted into the ring, razor stiffening into a blade as he moved, followed by Tactus racing over from the Augustus ranks. Then another lancer. Tactus let loose a war howl that other Golds present from Darrow and Mustang's army quickly echoed. Cagney au Bellona reached the Reaper first, swinging the razor she stole from him at the Academy. Darrow ducked, and only managed to keep his head thanks to Mustang throwing her own blade up to deflect the slash. Sparks stung Darrow's face and Tactus cut Cagney clean in half with a swing to the side. Screams echoed as the Bleeding Place collapsed into bloodshed and anarchy.

Bellona and Augustus Golds sprinted to protect their fellows while other families fled. Darrow rushed to Tactus's aid as Karnus au Bellona bore down on him. They held the Bellona killing machine off until Victra and others came between them and Karnus. Shiro ducked beneath the blade of a Bellona lancer and skewered the man in the stomach. It wasn't the first time he's killed flesh and blood sentient beings before. Gladiator matches as a prisoner of the Galra were always to the death, and he wasn't so naive to think that the crews of Galra warships didn't suffer casualties every time Voltron blew up a ship. But face to face killing was not something he relished at all.  _Can't seem to avoid it this time_ , he thought to himself as he removed the head of a Bellona lancer who tried to stab him in the groin.

Shouts boomed as Octavia futilely called for peace, but stopping this chaos was beyond even her power. A woman screamed over Cagney's ruined body. Dozens of men and women, all armed with blades, slashed into one another. Tactus took a blade through the shoulder defending Darrow, who spun to his friend's aid and hacked off the arm of the Bellona man who had stabbed Tactus in the side. Shiro weaved his way through the throng towards Mustang, who shielded Cassius' wounded body from further injury. Shiro cut off the hand of a Bellona attempting to skewer him as he noticed Darrow and Tactus rush towards Mustang, throwing their weight into the bodies blocking their way.

Darrow and Tactus quickly encountered Victra's half-sister, Antonia, who attempted to stab Darrow in the stomach before Victra punched her in the face. Tactus started kicking her in the head as she fell. Victra offered a laughing smile before Karnus dragged her down by the hair. He was forced off her as Leto entered the fray, turning back the tide with precise thrusts from his rainbow-colored razor. The Telemanuses joined in, father and son decimating every Gold who came before them with razors Shiro swore were as tall as Pidge.

"TACTUS, ON ME!" Darrow shouted. Together, the two men jumped high in the low lunar gravity, going for Mustang. But the Bellona crowds were too thick, and their razors too deadly. He desperately called for her as he fended off two Bellona, slashing one's face and punching another in the throat with his aegis. But more continued to join them until a thick Bellona bulwark blocked his path.

"PROTECT THE ARCHGOVERNOR!" She shouted back as Shiro finally reached her, standing with his back to her as he slashed at any vengeful Bellona that dared go near her. Her voice sounded much more composed than anyone else, making both Darrow and Shiro feel like idiots obsessed with chivalry. She didn't need anyone to save her. "PROTECT MY FATHER!" She ordered as she slashed at a Bellona who attempted to take their anger out on her. Cassius' mother came to collect her son as Tactus jerked Darrow away by the collar towards the retreating Augustus line while Bellona assaulted the group from the side. Someone else roared for people to protect Augustus. Others screamed to defend Imperator Bellona and Cassius. Many other family lords were being carried away by armed cadres of family members, backing out of the chaos with their blades at the ready.

Families fled the spire, using the lifts to get away since gravBoots were forbidden. The rooftop gardens were nearly deserted now. The Sovereign's Praetorians – Obsidians and Golds clad in purple and black armor – clustered around her and flew her away from the ruined gala. With Cassius safe with his family, Shiro dragged Mustang away from the swarm of death and escorted her inside himself. Praetorian Golds led Grays in riot gear to disperse everyone. The Grays' scorchers shot painballs and scatterwaves at the battling families, scattering Golds like flies in the summer.

"AUGUSTUS!" Karnus au Bellona screamed as he rushed through the scatterwaves like a madman. The murderous Bellona knocked someone down with his shoulder, shattered a lancer's face with his aegis, and charged headlong at the ArchGovernor, hoping to kill his family's rival in one swoop. As they joined the line of families waiting to escape in the lifts, Shiro and Mustang turned to watch as Leto, Nero's ward and the household's best swordsman, intercepted Karnus in front of the Martian governor.

"HIC SUNT LEONES!" Leto called to the sky as he moved like the sea, fluid and terrible in his grace. He knocked Karnus back and is about to open up his belly when he suddenly froze mid-swing. It was too far away for them to see what happened, and they didn't have time to stare as the lift returned to the top and the crowd surged onto the circular platform before it began its descent down the tower once more. The last thing Shiro and Mustang saw before the gradens were cut off from view was the sight of Karnus au Bellona chopping off Leto's head. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Update 11/3/17:** Combined the important parts of the Gala into a single chapter like they are in the book so I could add in some more pre-gala scenes.
> 
> This chapter is derrived from Chapter 12 of _Golden Son_ , In chapters like this where it's an event from the book with Shiro present, I just quoted from the book and reworked things to accommodate for the addition of Shiro.
> 
>  **Terminology:**  
>  **-Scorcher:** Energy gun. Size may vary, as the ones used by the Grays in this chapter are basically rifles, while Antonia and Sevro use pistol variants later in the novels.


	11. Mad Dogs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 12/31/17: Expanded on the escape from the gala and the aftermath, and ended up splitting it up into two chapters.

#### Hyperion

#### Luna

#### December 18th, 2840

The two were silent as the lift sped down the tower. A handful of fleeing Golds stood around them, eyes wide with shock and fear as they ripped off strips of fabric from dresses and coats to patch up assorted wounds. Spatters of red dotted the surface of the circular platform as the panicked Aureate did what they could to stop the blood seeping from fresh openings in their bodies. None of the Golds would be able to have their wounds fully tended to until they saw a Yellow at their villa, but the triage efforts would at least ensure none of the Gala attendees on the platform would bleed out before they could get medical attention. Shiro's own breaths were ragged as he fought to hold back the panic attack he knew was coming until he was back in the relative safety of his own quarters. Just because they'd fled the melee upstairs didn't mean that combat wouldn't inevitably spill beyond the two-kilometer spire.

As he bit his lip to fight back images of his time in the gladiator arena, Shiro turned to find Mustang clenching her fists as tears welled up in her eyes. Leto had been adopted as her father's ward as a pawn in one of Pliny's schemes to increase his social standing, but at the same time, the lancer's death was a harsh blow. He seemed like a relatively decent guy to Shiro (or as decent as a pro-hierarchy Gold could be), so while the two men had only met a few days ago, Leto's death had still rattled the time travelling Paladin. As the lift glided down the Sovereign's garden tower, Shiro subtly moved to put himself between Mustang and the crowds. In the chaos, there hadn't been time to check which families these other Golds belonged to, all thoughts of political allegiance abandoned in the name of survival. They had no way of knowing which of these Golds were Augustan loyalists, and which ones were Bellona supporters.

Surrounded by potential enemies on every side and having to pretend to be something he's not, Shiro was on the verge of a flashback at the reminders of his time as a prisoner of the Galra empire. But he couldn't afford to panic now, even as the aristocrats around him (barring Mustang of course) wept as they came down from their adrenaline rushes. He couldn't afford to let his emotions show in public. Not when his survival, when going home to his team, depended on playing his part. He had to stay focused, or he'd be shanked by a Bellona the instant he let his guard down. To distract himself from the memories threatening to overwhelm him, he turned his gaze toward the horizon, where the lights of the moon's capital twinkled beyond the forest separating the Citadel grounds from the city proper.  _Despite everything that's happened here tonight_ , he thought,  _people are just going to keep on living like nothing's happening, oblivious to the power plays and infighting of their Gold overlords. I just hope none of them get caught in the crossfire._

As they neared the bottom of the spire, Shiro's attention was drawn to movement on the ground. They were too high up to make out symbols and house colors, and the forest made it hard to tell how many, but it seemed that other family feuds beside the one between Augustus and Bellona were finding satisfaction tonight. While Shiro had his suspicions about why Darrow instigated this chaos, he was disgusted by the slaughter that continued into the night. He wasn't going to share his theories with Mustang yet, however. Right now, his suspicions were only that, and he did not wish to drive a wedge between Mustang and her friends over baseless accusations.  _But if Darrow really is part of the Sons of Ares, then it's safe to assume that the resistance has a concrete plan for bringing down the Hierarchy_ , he pointed out to himself, tentatively hopeful that this era might be a better place by the time he finally returned to his own era.

He was snapped out of his thoughts as the lift finally touched down in a clearing. They'd taken a different lift than the one used by the Augustan entourage mere hours before, but Shiro had learned every route through the gardens over the last few weeks as Mustang's "bodyguard". She grabbed his hand as she led him away from the crowds towards their quarters, her razor drawn and extended in her other. There was no telling whether the Sovereign would permit the Bellona to harm Mustang or not.  _It's like the War of the Five Kings_ , Shiro remarked silently as they reach their suites, reminiscing how he and Keith had binged Game of Thrones in between semesters at the Garrison back before his capture.  _All these "noble houses" trying to kill each other… The only difference is the setting_. Mustang's voice brought him back to the present as they made their way away from the lift. The other occupants scattered in different directions as each headed to access their ships and fly home, many families carrying their wounded.

"That gorydamn idiot!" She fumed with a frustrated growl once they were far enough away not to be heard. "I had everything planned out, and then I have to throw months of careful planning out the window because Darrow decided he needed to settle his rivalry with Cassius publicly like a petty, insecure child."

"I'm not entirely sure it was that simple," Shiro replied cautiously, glancing around to make sure nobody was in earshot. "I think he might have known, or at least suspected, that the Sovereign was working with the Bellona." Mustang's anger settled as she quickly followed the lancer's train of thought.

"Meaning that the duel was part of a plan to force Octavia to reveal her hand," she finished with a small smile. "By putting her in a position where she has no choice but to reveal her favoritism, he generates public sympathy for my father, thereby allowing House Augustus to outmaneuver the Bellona." Her face frowned as she worked the theory through in her mind. "But then he didn't need to antagonize the entire Bellona family like that. It was as if he wanted the rivalry between the two houses to explode the way it did."

"I think the only way to get an answer about that is to ask him yourself," the Black Paladin commented. "I assume you at least have a plan to get us both out of this mess?" Mustang smirked.

"As if I ever do anything without contingencies for contingencies, goodman," she quipped, the humor in her voice injecting some levity into the seriousness of their situation. But before she could tell him further, she jerked her head upwards, looking to the sky. Shiro heard them a second later, and he took a half-step closer to her with his razor in hand so that they stood back to back as dark shapes impacted the ground like Robeast pods. They landed on the grass between the trees, cutting the two off from escape. Obsidian Praetorians landed in a circle, the titanic Stained like golems carved from the stone of a mountain. The towering slave knights dressed in dark purple armor inlaid with black, a shade uncomfortably like the hull of a Galra battle cruisier.

The Gold landed last, coming down on one knee before standing up and allowing his helmet to fold back into his armor. ArchLegate Lucius au Sejanus stood before them, cape billowing in the wind, his armor the same black and purple of his Obsidian shock troops. Shiro gulped, both at Sejanus' presence and the intention this show of force implied.

"What is the meaning of this, Sejanus?" Mustang demanded, putting on a mask of indignation as she moved to confront the ArchLegate.

"Sovereign's orders, Lady Augustus," the Golden man replied sharply as he stepped forward. "All members of the Augustus household, barring yourself, are to be placed under house arrest until further notice. Your bodyguard must join the other members of your father's retinue at their villa." Shiro scowled in suspicion. If the Sovereign planned to have House Augustus wiped out, it would make sense to gather everyone under one roof before she brought the hammer down.

"Terranova comes with me," Mustang snapped firmly. "My father may be the one who pays him, but it was I who convinced him to hire the man in the first place. If Octavia is concerned about security, he can stay in his quarters in the Citadel. But his loyalty is to me, and me alone." Sejanus looked like he was about to argue before he cocked his head to the side as if hearing something they couldn't. The man's brow furrowed, and Shiro quickly deduced that the ArchLegate was receiving new orders from the Sovereign. Finally, he gestured for his troops to stand down and turned back to the ArchGovernor's daughter and her faux-bodyguard.

"Very well," the man said. "Terranova may remain in his quarters. But the Sovereign would like you to oversee the Praetorian command's efforts to restore order." Mustang and Shiro exchanged a glance. While they weren't normally worried about what might happen to him when they were out of each other's sight, tonight was different. But right now, they didn't have a choice. She mouthed  _Plan C_ to him before she gestured for him to deactivate his razor. Shiro nodded, recognizing the unspoken instruction to get his Paladin armor packed as soon as he got back to his suite.

"Do I have your word that he will not be harmed?" she demanded as they clipped their inactive weapons to their belts. They both knew that if the Sovereign wanted to, she would have the Black Paladin killed whether she gave her word or not. But for appearances' sake, Mustang had to ask the question anyway as a formality.

"I swear on the honor of my house that no harm will come to Shiro au Terranova by my hand or those of my men," Sejanus answered formally.  _But the Sovereign is free to have someone else do the deed,_ Shiro translated the political double-speak in his head.  _Which means that I'm going to need to pack quickly and be out of the room before Lune sends a hit squad._ Mustang nodded at Sejanus' words, just as aware of the double meaning as Shiro was.

"Very well," she said calmly before she turned to the Black Paladin. "Terranova, return to your quarters and await further instructions. The ArchLegate can guide me to the Sovereign's chambers from here."

"Are you certain, goodlady?" he asked, only partially for show. While he knew she could take care of herself, that didn't stop him from worrying. Mustang had become like a sister to him over the last two months, and he didn't want anything to happen to her. Mustang looked him in the eyes and nodded.

"I am," she replied. Shiro held back a sigh. He was going to have to deal with the kill squad alone then. It wasn't an unexpected scenario. They'd prepared for such an eventuality, but these circumstances were far from ideal. At least there was no indication that Lune's court suspected the truth about him. They were only coming after him as an employee of House Augustus, and not for impersonating a Gold.

"As you wish, then," the time traveler responded. And with that, they parted ways. Mustang took a few seconds to latch up the spare gravBoots Sejanus had brought for her, then gave him a reassuring glance before she took off into the sky. Shiro took a deep breath and allowed the Obsidians to guide him back to his quarters. The giants were silent as they marched through the Citadel grounds. Shiro held his breath as he walked. The average Obsidian was as physically imposing as Zarkon, and if Sejanus were to go back on his word and order them to attack him (an unlikely scenario, but still possible), he'd be overwhelmed in seconds, even with the surprise of his arm on his side.

Thankfully, nothing happened, and his escorts brought him back to his suite without incident. As soon as he closed the door, he activated a jamField and got to work. Once the door was locked, he put on his datapad and made a beeline for the closet. He knew that one way or another, he was leaving Luna tonight. So it was time for him to start packing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Terminology:**  
>  **-RipWing:** Standard military Starfighters of the Society navy. Descriped as looking like two bats glued back to back.  
>  **-StarShell:** Armored space suits designed for ship-to-ship combat and  
>  **-Domina/Dominus:** Term used by lowColors when being deferential to Golds. Plural form Dominii


	12. What the Storm Brings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 12/31/17: New content! As a result of my New Year's Eve rewriting session, I broke up the previous chapter into two so I could flesh everything out. Sorry if it's a little short.

#### Hyperion

#### Luna

#### December 18th, 2840

It was another hour before Mustang finally called to explain their next move.

 _Time to get to work_ , Shiro told himself as he made his way to the closet. Grabbing two duffle bags, he pulled every piece of clothing he'd purchased since his arrival in this era off its hangar, folded it, and piled it in one of the duffle bags. Once the first bag was full and his clothes were gone, he opened the secret compartment where he'd hidden his Paladin armor and carefully arranged all the pieces so that they would fit inside the second bag. After his armor was packed, he grabbed a high-tech lock he'd acquired on the black market and used it to seal the second bag, so nobody would be able to access his armor but him.  _Don't want someone to go poking through my stuff and find something that'll blow my cover,_ he thought to himself.

Once he finished packing, there was nothing he could do but wait. He turned off the jamField and put his comm unit in his ear. Once he was ready to go, he switched on the HC and listened to the news feeds while he paced in the hopes of gleaning new information. There was nothing now about official deaths or anything relating to the flighting at the gala itself. Just the official information about security in the Citadel that he knew had been coordinated and put together by Mustang. All ships had been grounded. A no-fly zone had been initiated in orbit. All family-owned capital ships had had their warrants revoked and were being pushed back beyond the Rubicon beacons until the Sovereign gave further notice.

His datapad buzzed with an incoming message. He looked down at his left forearm to find a private text from Mustang

 _"_ _Cassius lives,"_ the message read. _"He's with the Yellows. Citadel Carvers are already preparing to replace his arm."_

Shiro felt relieved.  _Glad he made it out of this in one piece at least,_ he thought to himself, half-sarcastic, half-sincere.  _But the no-fly zone means House Augustus is going to be stranded on Luna with no ship…_ He trailed off as he deduced what Mustang was planning.  _Unless we steal one for them and rescue them ourselves_ , he finished.  _There are times where I forget just how smart she is, he added to himself. She's like Slav only without the crippling OCD_. Once the situation began to take shape, he went into the bathroom and took a quick shower so that he could clean off all the blood. Once his body had been cleaned off, he threw his ruined uniform in the trash and pulled a clean set of clothes from the duffle bag. After he was clothed once more, he sat on the edge of the holochair to see what else was on the HC besides the news.

He flipped through entertainment channels so that security cameras would see a bored Aureate keeping himself entertained until he was permitted to leave his quarters. Because of the Summit, Gold sports like bloodChess and gravCross were in the off-season, but fauxWar and ripRacing competed year-round. As a former gladiator of Zarkon's arena, he couldn't stomach fauxWar, so he set the channel to ripRacing and went back to pacing. The race went to a commercial break when his datapad vibrated with another message from Mustang.

_"_ _On my way. Tell Sevro to remember to bring the bag. He'll know what it means. Don't leave your suite until I get there."_

Shiro complied and forwarded her instructions to Sevro before he turned off the HC. It was almost time to go, so he reactivated the jamField and pulled the ghostCloak out of his bag before slipping it over his head, the hood pulled back as he waited. Ten minutes later, there was a knock at the door, and he opened it to find Mustang cleaned up as well, wearing the gold and white lancer's uniform of House Lune with her hair in a braid behind her. Like him, she also wore a ghostCloak for tonight. The better for them to reach their destination unseen.

"Everything set?" he asked her as he stepped out into the hallways. "Am I clear to leave?"

"Close enough that nobody will pay you any mind in the halls," she replied, gesturing for him to follow as she started walking down the corridor, her image pixelating into nothing as she activated her ghostCloak. "Now, come on. We're running late." Shiro turned on his ghostCloak and followed. had learned every inch of the Citadel over the last two months as he and Mustang prepared for this night, so he wasn't surprised to realize that they were headed to the Citadel's main hangars.  _Hopefully there's a fast ship there,_ he thought to himself as they walked invisibly through the main building.  _But we'll take whatever we can get._

After living there for two months, Shiro knew that the Citadel, like New York City, was a place that never slept, so the silence in the corridors was more unnerving than the lack of guards.  _Probably makes sense that the staff would be hiding from all the family feuds to avoid getting caught in the crossfire_ ,  _though_ , he surmised as he noticed heavy objects barricaded in front of the doors to the servants' quarters as they passed through the lowColor levels.  _After all_ , he added, thinking of the Jackal, Antonia, Tactus' brothers, and other excessively ruthless Golds he'd been warned to avoid,  _some of the more sadistic Golds would probably use the chaos as an excuse to mutilate others for kicks_.

Thankfully, with most of the Citadel's security staff out attempting to restore order on the grounds, they made their way through the building completely unopposed. Shiro wouldn't put it past the likes of Tactus' older brothers to use rocket launchers or other explosives in the bloodshed tonight, so he and Mustang both instinctively avoided the lifts. When they arrived in the hangar, most of the ripWings were out patrolling the skies and enforcing the no-fly zone, but unfortunately the only ships available on the entire level were Storks. The large troop transports were built to deploy soldiers in starShells to drop points, but they were slower than molasses travelling uphill.  _Not like we have any choice in the matter, though,_ Shiro thought to himself as he and Mustang strode towards an empty stork at the edge of the hangar.

As they walked, it occured to him that he was finally leaving Luna for the first time. And despite his distaste for the Game of Thrones-esque politics of Lune's court, he found himself feeling a little sad. It had been almost two years since he was last on Earth, and after his escape, the Castle of Lions had become a second home for him. He hadn't exactly felt the same way about Luna, but he'd gotten used to it since he'd been stranded in this era. It had become familiar and stable, something he hadn't had since he'd been taken by the Galra. Leaving that stability behind, facing an uncertain future stravelling the solar system... he didn't want to admit it to himself, but the thought scared him.

But there wasn't time for him to dwell on his nostalgia and fear. Not until they'd made their escape. Waiting next to the ship where the Yellow who had kept him alive, the Pink who had trained him in Aureate culture, and the Violet who'd implanted his Sigils and ID chip. Shiro felt a brief flash of fear at the reminder that Mustang wasn't the only one who knew his secret. But that fear was quickly buried by relief that she'd had the foresight to bring everyone with them, not wanting to risk the truth leaking out if any of them were left behind. Mustang nodded in acknowledgement and thanked the three lowColors for coming with them before pressing a button on her datapad and notifying the Blue she'd hired that they had arrived.

While Mustang headed forward up to the cockpit to tell the Blue to initiate liftoff, Shiro quickly closed the door behind them. Shiro led the Yellow, Pink, and Violet up to the passenger cabin, where all but Shiro strapped themselves in for the inevitably bumpy ride. The ship rumbled as it took off into the night sky, and Mustang returned a few minutes later and lead him back to the cargo hold. While she trusted the three lowColors with Shiro's secret, she wasn't going to discuss their battle plans while they were in earshot. Better to give the trio plausible deniability if the plan failed and the Whites interrogated the survivors.

"How are we going to keep the Scepter Armada from shooting us out of the sky?" Shiro asked. He wouldn't have been as worried if he'd been piloting the Black Lion. It could take a beating. But Storks were small. Only a little bit larger than the shuttle they'd flown on the trip to Kerberos. A single missile or rain-gun round was enough to destroy it completely. And if it ruptured while they were in space, well, Shiro wouldn't be able to reach his armor in time for it to pressurize. They were sitting ducks until they reached the safety of the Augustus fleet.

"Because she would never let anything happen to Lysander," she answered grimly. Shiro recoiled in shock at what she had just implied.

"I'm starting to think you're as crazy as Darrow is," he quipped, only half joking as the magnitude of what he was participating in tonight hit him like a freight train. "Things were bad enough with the massacre between the Bellona and your family," he continued. "But kidnapping the Sovereign's grandson? An eight-year-old child? Are we really going to stoop so low?" Mustang sighed. He knew that she didn't like this anymore than he did.

"It's the only way out of the no-fly zone in one piece and you know it," she retorted. "I don't like it any more than you do but it's the only thing that will actually make Octavia call off the ripWings. And if you're worried about the boy being hurt by my father, don't. Darrow wouldn't be willing to hurt him even if my father told him to, and Sevro follows his lead. My father is only cruel when it's practical, and Kavax will treat Lysander as if he were his own son. In any case, it's too late to change the plan now. I've already handed Lysander over to Sevro and came down to get you. Now, we need to get this ship in the air and make sure they have a gorydamn escape route when they leave the villa." As she said this, the shuddering of the ship's engine switched to a low hum as the pilot finished pre-flight checks and they finally took off, the Stork sluggishly gliding out of the hangar bay.

"Ten minutes to the rendezvous, point, Dominii," the Blue announced over the intercom. Shiro looked to Mustang and nodded. It was time for them to get ready for the final stages of her plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Background Info:**  
>  -BloodChess and GravCross were namedropped by Julian in the first book, and Pierce talked about what other Colors did for entertainment in a reddit AMA a while back, where he mentioned the Obsidian gladiator matches of FauxWar or the Blues' RipRacing, which is basically the Red Rising equivalent of Nascar or Formula 1 races.


	13. Bloodstains

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another book heavy chapter, so lots of quoted dialogue and descriptions from the corresponding chapter in the book.

#### Stork Flight Cabin

#### Luna

#### December 18th, 2840

"Seventy-three dead," Mustang reported, shaking her head sadly. "Two Earthborn families erased, neither of which had anything do with Bellona or Augustus. Over two hundred wounded, and that's not even counting the mid- and lowColor servants caught in the crossfire." Shiro slumped back in his seat. So many people dead, all in a matter of hours.  _When will this all end?_ He wondered silently as their ship chugged along through the Luna skies towards the Augustan villa, where the ArchGovernor's entourage had been pinned down by a joint kill squad consisting of Praetorian Guards and Bellona lancers. He rested his hand against his throat, thinking about how close he had come to being murdered before he could make it home. The sad thing was that after everything the Galra had done to him, imagining the phantom sensation of a Bellona lancer slitting his throat barely warranted a shiver.

Octavia had been planning to do more than just give the position of Mars' ArchGovernor to the Bellona family. She'd been planning to allow them to assassinate Augustus and everyone who sat at his table during the sixth course of tonight's meal.  _I guess I should thank Darrow for interrupting the gala when he did,_ Shiro thought to himself with a macabre chuckle. But despite his attempt at gallows humor, thinking about the maybe-not-quite-metaphorical bullet he'd dodged tonight made him almost as nervous as his panic attack after the skirmish in the gardens. Sure, being a Voltron paladin was no less dangerous, but at least you knew the danger was there, and what to be on the lookout for. His brooding was interrupted when the ship's intercom crackled and the Blue announced that they were five minutes from the rendezvous point. Mustang passed him a pair of gravBoots for when they reached the villa.

Since a full blown Red Wedding-style death had failed, Lune had opted to go for a subtler approach this time. While Darrow met with the Sovereign for an interrogation session with her pet Oracles – carved scorpion/snake hybrid creatures designed to serve as organic lie detectors – and Aja, Bellona lancers and Praetorian guards stormed the Augustan quarters and started killing everyone in their path. Darrow and the Howlers were on their way to break the siege with Lysander as a hostage. Once the getaway ship arrived, Mustang would hold the ship steady, while Shiro would help reinforce them and help bring up survivors. As they prepared for their parts, he fought the urge to vomit on the floor of the passenger cabin as Mustang told him some of the crime scene details.

While they were being escorted by the Praetorians, House Thorne had been fleeing through the forested gardens towards their quarters when they were ambushed by a gang of House Falthe lancers. It was a laughably one-sided massacre, with only one of the Thornes managed to kill a Falthe before being slain herself. Of the Thorne family's fifteen children, only one managed to escape the ambush. She was the only survivor. Among Golds, children weren't innocent, just ticking time bombs waiting to go off. Shiro's face paled as it truly hit him just how ruthless Gold culture really was beneath the lip service to things like honor and justice. Aureate were ruthless killers who did whatever it took to maintain their power and advance their agendas. But there was no time to dwell on the horrors of Gold society. They were almost to their destination.

As he finished latching up his boots, he was overcome by a sense of how familiar the panicked rush felt. It had been there at the back of his mind since his panic attack, but now he could finally put his finger on it. It was too similar the whole sequence of his escape from Zarkon's empire. The violence of the Gala reminded him of the adrenaline rush of his escape and the accompanying firefight, running away from the sentries into an escape pod. Their desperate escape from Luna was reminiscent of his team leaving Earth in the Blue Lion. And through it all, he felt as helpless as he had that night he landed back on Earth, and, rather than helping him or being more accommodating of his obvious panic, the Garrison had just strapped him to a lap table and sedated him in spit of his clear distress. The circumstances were wildly different, but the emotions were uncomfortably similar.

"This is starting to remind me of the second time I left Earth," Shiro commented aloud, thinking of how quickly he and the other paladins had been forced to flee the planet when the Galra ship had arrived in search of the Blue Lion. Mustang looked up from her datapad at the mention of his past. He'd told her he'd been back to Earth once since his presumed death, but he was hesitant to discuss the specifics among the prying eyes and ears of the Citadel.  _I guess now that we're finally away from the serpents' nest I'll probably be able to tell her about it privately,_ Shiro mused as he turned to Mustang and shook his head.  _But now isn't the time._

"I'll explain once we're away from Luna," he replied with a knowing smile. Once they were safely away from the viper's nest that was Octavia au Lune's court, he could tell Mustang about his time as a paladin of Voltron with less risk. Talking about his time as a prisoner of the empire still made him uncomfortable, but after two months on Luna he felt that he needed to actually talk about his time as a Paladin of Voltron to remind himself of who he really was. To remind himself that the gold hair and eyes were just a mask. A few minutes later, the Blue announced that they were approaching the rendezvous point.  _Alright,_ Shiro encouraged himself.  _Showtime._ He exchanged a high-five with Mustang before they got up to fulfill their separate roles in the escape plan.

"Good luck," she told him as she moved to head back towards the cockpit.

"You too," he replied before turning on his heels and climbing down into the cargo bay.

With the push of a button Shiro opened the bay doors as the ship hovered two hundred meters above the ground. He looked down to see a standoff in progress. On one side of the garden near the villa's hot springs stood Aja, flanked by two Bellona Golds and their Obsidian bodyguards. Across from them were Darrow and the Howlers, the former holding Lysander au Lune like a freshly caught rabbit with his razor coiled threateningly around the boy's neck. As the ship slowed into position, Sevro and Thistle shot away back to the villa, presumably to fetch the survivors. Quinn remained by Darrow's side while the rest of the Howlers splashed down into the water. Shiro was confused for a moment before they emerged with the members of Augustus' retinue clinging to their bodies, soaked and gasping for air.

 _They must have been gone underwater to hide from infrared sensors,_ Shiro observed as he engaged his grav Boots and floated down to help fetch the rest of the household.  _Sevro and Thistle must have gone back inside to make sure we don't leave anyone behind._ On the way down, he passed the ArchGovernor holding on to Harpy's back while The Jackal clung to Clown's arm and Pliny hung from his feet. Shiro dove down into the lagoon and brought out Victra, helmetless and wounded on her neck. She cllung to her razor as though it was carrying her aloft instead of him. The Howlers deposited the survivors into the stork's loading bay and returned for more.

"I will remember you all with great joy," he heard Victra shout from his back, laughing madly. "Starting with you, Aja au Grimmus. I will make a coat of your hide." Gold bodies were much denser than those of pre-Conquering humans, so Shiro was grateful that his gravBoots make what would otherwise be a strenuous task so much easier. He let her off in the belly of their escape craft at the same time that Roque and Theodora, a Pink serving as Darrow's personal assistant, were unloaded by the other Howlers. As Shiro glided down for his second trip, he saw Thistle emerge from the manor, helping several survivors, including the Telemanuses and Tactus, who had blood seeping from over a dozen holes in his armor.  _He really put up a fight,_ Shiro remarked as he landed on the ground next to Darrow and Quinn.

"Darrow?" Tactus cried as he saw his friend at the head of the rescue party, cackling gleefully when he laid eyes on the Sovereign's grandson. "You mad bastard! Oh, that's ripe. That's ripe. I owe you a drink, my goodman…" The lancer's voice trailed off as Thistle and the Telemanuses carried him up to the ship, although Shiro couldn't help but chuckle as Tactus managed to make an obscene hand gesture in Aja's direction.

"He's taller than in holos," Shiro overheard Lysander whisper. He immediately sobered up at the reminder of the fact that their survival depended on threatening the life of an eight-year-old child.

"That's the last of them," Sevro informed Darrow.  _Good,_ Shiro thought.  _Now we can finally get out of here and figure out what to do next._

"Tell your master we of Mars do not bow so easily," Darrow said to Aja. The rain beat down around the group, dripping over the Protean Knight's dark face, so her eerie eyes blazed in the night. For a few minutes, nobody moved as the tense standoff continued. After a few moments, she broke the silence the Reaper imposed on her.

"That is what the Governor of Rhea said when my Ash Lord came to put down his rebellion," she said. But Shiro quickly noticed something off about the Fury's voice. It didn't sound like her own, as if someone else is speaking through her.  _Octavia must be speaking into Aja's ear over her com,_ he realized.  _With Aja repeating the words._

"The Governor of Rhea sat upon his Ice Throne in his famed Glass Palace and asked one of my servants 'Who are you to breathe fear into a man such as I? I who have descended from the family that carved heaven from a place where once there was nothing but a hell of ice and stone. Who are you to make me bow?' Then, he struck the Ash Lord here under the eye with his scepter. 'Go home to Luna. Go home to the Core. The Outer Reach is for creatures of sterner spines.' The Governor of Rhea did not bow. Now his moon is ash. His family is ash. He is ash. So, run, Darrow au Andromedus. Run home to Mars, for my legions will follow you to the ends of this universe."

"I hope so," Darrow fired back, even as Shiro shuddered at how thoroughly they've provoked the Sovereign's wrath.

"You have one bargaining chip," Octavia reminded them through Aja. "My grandson is your safe passage. If he dies, I wipe your ship from the sky. Spend him wisely."  _Why is she telling us something we already know?_ Shiro wondered as Quinn leaned into Darrow's shoulder.

"It's time to go," she said. She set a hand on Darrow's back to remind him that he wasn't alone. The Reaper nodded, and Shiro helped Quinn cover their retreat as Darrow rose upward with Lysander, razor slithering around his neck like a python. Quinn eyed the Praetorians warily and rose to follow. As she did, Shiro saw Aja looking at Quinn rising from the ground the way a cat looked at a mouse and comprehension dawned on him in an instant.

"Aja, NO!" Lysander yelled.

"QUINN!" Darrow shouted.

And in a flash, Aja lunged forward, quicker than any cat ever born. But his time piloting the Black Lion had honed his reflexes to the point that Shiro was the only one able to react in time. After keeping it a secret for two months, he activated the energy weapon in his mechanical arm and lashed out at Aja, the Galra tech of his arm carving through her armor like butter and leaving a four-inch burn along the Protean Knight's arm. The Fury screamed in pain and rage as she recoiled from the blow. Shiro quickly engaged his gravBoots and accelerated into the air, Quinn following closely behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Background Info**  
>  -Forty years before the beginning of the second book, the moons of Saturn rebelled against Octavia and tried to declare their independence from the Core. It took the deaths of fifty million people and the nuclear warhead-induced annihilation of Rhea (which earned the Ash Lord his nickname) for the First Moon Lords' Rebellion to be destroyed.  
> -And yes, Octavia still looks relatively young after ruling for over six decades. Medical technology and the whole gene splicing differentiation of the castes means that the average Gold can live almost a hundred and fifty years, even without the aid of other life-extending chemicals/procedures that have been developed over the centuries. 
> 
>  
> 
> **Terminology:**  
>  **-Oracle:** Carved creatures commissioned by Octavia to serve as organic lie detectors by sensing heartrate, temperature, body chemicals, etc. Her favorite game is for her and another person she wants to interrogate to each attach one to their arm and ask each other questions until one or the other is caught in a lie. Seventy one people have played this little "game" with the Sovereign before Darrow. Only one person besides him has ever managed to beat her, with the Olympic Knights on hand to kill Octavia's oracle just in case, because their venom, while not lethal, is, well... to quote the woman herself "If there is a hell, what's in that stinger is as close to it as science has let us come."


	14. Stork

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another book heavy chapter

#### Stork Cargo Bay

#### Luna

#### December 18th, 2840

Shiro and Quinn landed inside the Stork to find Darrow kneeling on the ground. Lysander was sprawled on his knees near Sevro. The Jackal and several other dripping Augustuans stared at the group. The ship rose and the doors hissed closed behind them. Roque pushed through the others to see Quinn, then rushed forward to give her a hug. She reassured him that she's all right as Lysander stood and went to Darrow's side.  _Poor kid didn't deserve to get wrapped up in all this,_ Shiro thought to himself, frustrated by the fact that his survival depended on things that no paladin of Voltron should even consider doing.  _He may not exactly be innocent, given his grandmother's influence, but he's still not even ten years old._ While Roque frantically looked Quinn over for injuries, the Jackal walked up to thank Darrow for the rescue.

"Thank your sister and her friend here," Darrow replied, gesturing towards Shiro.

"What exactly did you do to Aja anyway?" Quinn asked as the Howlers begin to strip out of their armor and remove their gravBoots. Shiro took a moment to compose his thoughts and come up with a credible explanation.

"The Yellow who gave me the arm was a bit of an eccentric," the Black Paladin lied. "Her last project was a weapon design my parents had commissioned try and raise their station but they cancelled the order and she had a few to spare. The project was trying to create a sort of bladed version of a pulseFist – one that carried a retractable razor. The early versions ended up melting down the razor and incorporating it into the arm, and it was the only one cheap enough for my brother to afford." Quinn and the Howlers accepted this explanation, although Darrow, Sevro, and the Jackal clearly remained unconvinced.

"Goryhell," Roque whispered as it finally hit everyone that they'd just committed treason against the Sovereign. "How did we come to this?"

"Octavia was set on this path all along," Darrow answered quietly. "Before we even came to Luna, she intended to give the Bellona the ArchGovernorship. The gala was a trap."

"When did you discover this?" The Jackal asked. "Before or after the duel?"

"Before," Darrow replied. But Shiro knew that he was lying. Mustang had been present for that part of Octavia's little Oracle test. And she could tell from Darrow's reaction to the revelation that he hadn't known. Adding one more detail to the mystery that was Darrow au Andromedus. But before he could think of something to say further, the Jackal interrupts

"Well played" Mustang's brother remarked. "Makes us seem the victim. I see Mustang failed in her task."

"Did your father send her to infiltrate Octavia's court?" Darrow asked. Shiro was about to tell him that Mustang had come up with the idea on her own, but her brother beat him to the punch.

"No," the Jackal answered. "I imagine it was her own idea. Draw close to the dragon…"  _Hit the nail right on the head, there, Jackal,_ Shiro thinks as he removes his own gravBoots.

"The Julii are against us too," Darrow added. Roque and the Jackal nodded thoughtfully.

"That would make sense," Roque commented. "Politicos tried to take Victra from us before Karnus and Aja came."

"You don't seem worried about that," Shiro observed, finally joining in the conversation again.

"Victra is her mother's favorite daughter," the Jackal replied, shaking his head as if remembering something. "But she took three Obsidians on for me. Three. She's with us, body and mind." Roque and Quinn sat together in the corner of the cargo bay, lips locked and arms intertwined. Darrow and Shiro turn to see Sevro standing quietly in his armor, watching Roque and Quinn. Shiro could tell from the look in the lead Howler's remaining organic eye that Sevro loved Quinn but had never worked up the courage to tell her. Victra put a hand on his shoulder, noticing his pain but not understanding why it's there.

"I don't know you," he snarled as he shoved her hand off.

"Sorry," she remarked defensively as she backed away.

"What are you waiting for, Reap?" Sevro demanded. "We're not off this rock yet." He jerks his head towards the main cabin. Darrow leads the way, asking Victra to bring the Sovereign's grandson. Shiro brings up the rear as Darrow and Sevro climbed up the ladder and meet Tactus in the narrow corridor leading to the passenger hold and the flight cabin.

"Oy, goodman," Tactus called out, addressing Darrow as he favored his injured shoulder, wet hair dangling over his laughing eyes. "Next time you're planning something dramatic, tell us you're coming so we don't go pissing our pants." Shiro couldn't help but stifle a chuckle at the comment.

"Not now, Tactus," Darrow replied as he pushed past his fellow lancer. "We still need to get past the fleet."

"Ever the bore," Tactus remarked before turning his attention to Sevro. "Looky, looky. Goblin. If possible, you've shrunk even further my goodman." Sevro didn't smile, and Shiro recalled how Mustang told him that the Howler hated the nickname given to him. The Black Paladin focused his thoughts as the trio entered the passenger hold, where the Augustans and Howlers buckled themselves into bucket seats in preparation for breaching the atmosphere of Luna. At the sight of everyone buckling in, it finally hit Shiro that after two months living in the Citadel, he was finally leaving Luna for the first time. While his time keeping his guard up for fear of discovery wasn't exactly fun, he did feel a bit nostalgic for the place that had been his landing point in this era. And then Tactus had to go and ruin the moment.

"Hello, psychos," the lancer called out to the Howlers as he followed the trio into the room. "Pleasure to see your diminutive forms yet again. Especially you, Pebble." Shiro stifled a groan _. Tactus is really starting to remind me of Lance, only without any inhibitions or redeeming qualities whatsoever,_ he thought to himself.

"Eat shit," Pebble retorted, looking up from where she was busy helping to buckle one of the ArchGovernor's young nephews into his seat. When they exited the passenger hold, Tactus leaned into Darrow's shoulder.

"Good friends to come and rescue you," he remarked. "Thought they were scattered to the Rim."

"Were," Sevro replied.

"What brought you back?" he asked. "The weather?" Sevro said nothing, although Shiro knew that it was loyalty to Mustang and to Darrow that brought the Howler to Luna. Tactus laughed despite the multiple gaping holes in his armor.  _How is he still standing?_ Shiro wondered incredulously.

"Just how you like 'em. Eh, Darrow?" Tactus added, nudging his friend a bit too playfully, leaving faint smears of his own blood on the other lancer's clothes. "Friends who will risk life and limb to always be in your shadow?" Tactus winced as he bumped a bulkhead with his shoulder. Sevro trailed to the back of the group with Shiro as they came to the closed door of the flight cabin. Before Darrow could ask about Tactus' shoulder, the metal door hissed open. Nero au Augustus filled the doorframe, staring down at the group just as Victra brought Lysander forward from the ship's aft section.

"They're almost done, my liege," Darrow told the ArchGovernor, leading the group to join their employer in the flight cabin. The cockpit is as large as the bedrooms of the Citadel's villas. An array of lights ring the pilot and co-pilot chairs, Mustang co-piloting from the left chair, with the Blue pilot seated to her right. A blue light glows under the skin of the Blue's left temple indicating she's jacked into the ship. Mustang is speaking quickly with the Blue as she helps fly the ship, her right hand manipulating a holographic control prism. Shiro felt a pang of homesickness as he saw Earth hovering outside the curved viewport. Augustus, Pliny, and the comically hunched over Kavax au Telemanus discussed the group's options behind Mustang in the quiet of the cockpit.

"Well done, Darrow," Augustus said without even looking back to the group. "Though, you coud have chosen a better ship…"

"What's going on back there?" Mustang interrupted. "Is anyone hurt?"

"A few bruises, but we'll all live," Darrow replied.

"How long till we reach safety?" Shiro asked.

"It'll be a while," she answered. "Even when we hit orbit, we're thirty minutes out from our fleet."

"Fly faster," Darrow urged her. The ship trembled as Mustang and the Blue accelerated the ship as fast as it would go.

"It was a good plan," Kavax chimed in, beaming as he looked down at her. "It was a good plan, Virginia. The time you and Pax hid in the shrubbery to listen to your father's counsel. Except Pax was bigger than the shrub!" The man's booming laugh startled the quiet Blue, and even Shiro couldn't help but chuckle in amusement at the story. Mustang reached back and squeezed the Telemanus patriarch's arm, her hand smaller than his elbow to the point of looking comical. Kavax preened like a hunting dog with a pheasant in its jaws, looking around to see if everyone noticed her compliment.  _She really has a way with extremely tall men,_ Shiro thought with a chuckle.  _I'm half tempted to think that the Telemanuses might be part Galra and descended from Zarkon somehow. They're as big as he is._

The love on Kavax's face made the ArchGovernor's disinterest in his daughter's role in the plan seem monstrous. Shiro noticed Darrow look ill for a moment and remembered with disgust that the Jackal had killed Pax, Kavax's son and Mustang's childhood friend, at the Institute. And since Adrius was stuck in the same boat as they were, he could understand why the lancer found the idea of allying with the man who killed his friend repulsive. Mustang spared a glance at Darrow, her hair bound behind her head and the ghost of a small smile creasing the corners of her lips. Everyone was silent for a long moment as Shiro noticed the lovesick look in Darrow's eyes. Then, Augustus turned to the Reaper.

"I assume Octavia attempted to bring you into her fold as well?" he asked Darrow.

"She attempted," the young man replied.

"Slag herself!" Kavax boomed. "Bet you told her to go slag herself, eh, boy?" He slapped Darrow's shoulder, knocking him into Victra. "Sorry," he says sheepishly, rain water still dripping from his red forked beard. "Sorry."

"Actually, Lord Telemanus," Darrow commented. "I thought her offer tempting. She manages to treat her lancers with respect. Unlike others."  _Nice one, Darrow,_ Shiro observeed as he leans against the bulkhead of the cockpit. The ArchGovernor doesn't even waste time bantering over the subtle jab at how quickly the man threw the lancer under the bus less than a week ago.

"We'll amend that. I owe you a debt, Darrow," Nero responded. "Provided we make it to my fleet."

"You owe it to Mustang and the Howlers as much as me," Darrow said. Shiro couldn't help but like how the younger man was always quick to make sure everyone got credit.

"What is a Howler?" the ArchGovernor asked, confused for a moment.

"My friends in the black armor. Sevro's the leader."

"Sevro. That wrecthed little thing outside with my lancer, yes?" Augustus raised an eyebrow. Shiro immediately disliked the Martian governor's tone. "Thought I recognized him. Fitchner's boy. The one that killed that Priam brat in the Passage."

"He's with us, my liege," Darrow replied. "Loyal as my own hands." As if on cue, the door to the cockpit hissed open and Sevro and Tactus walked in.  _That is freakishly precise timing,_ Shiro thought to himself as everyone turns to look at the duo.

"What?" Sevro challenged, recoiling slightly. Tactus scooted off to the side and into the cockpit.

"Does your loyalty lie with me or with your father, Sevro?" Augustus asked.

"What father?" Sevro retorted. "I'm a bastard's bastard." He paused as he looked the ArchGovernor up and down skeptically. "And all due respect, my liege, I could give a cat's frozen piss about you too. Your daughter brought me from the Rim. My allegiance is to her. But above all, it's to Reaper. That's it."

"Mind your manners, you little puppy," Kavax growled. But despite the seriousness of the situation, Shiro couldn't help himself as he let out a soft chuckle at Sevro's flippant attitude.

"You must be Pax's father," Sevro said as he turned to address Kavax. "Sorry he went. He's a man I might have died for. But I see he got his good looks from his mother." Shiro quickly suppressed his laughter when Kavax looked like he wasn't sure if he'd been insulted or not. Nero observed this without so much as a change in expression.

"Darrow, I owe you an apology," the Martian governor remarked. "You were right. Loyalty, it seems, can extend beyond the Institute. Now… Lysander." He kneeled to speak with the boy as the ship rose steadily. "I've heard tell that you are an exceptional lad.

"I am, my liege," the Sovereign's grandson said, his voice as firm as it can be given the circumstances.  _The kid's really brave,_ Shiro observed with a smile.  _If he gets a better role model before he grows up he might have the potential to be a paladin someday._ "They test me regularly," Lysander continued, and I train in all manners of studies. I rarely lose in chess. And when I do, I learn, as I ought."

"Do you now?" Nero asked rhetorically, the way a parent might when talking to a child. "I had a son like you, once, Lysander. But I'm sure you knew that."

"Adrius au Augustus," Lysander said, listing the Jackal from the Augustan lineage he'd learned.

"No," Augustus replied, shaking his head. "No. My younger son isn't like you at all." Lysander frowned.

"Then the elder," the boy corrected himself. "Claudius au Augustus?" Mustang glanced back at the mention of her older brother's name.

"Yes," the ArchGovernor answered with a nod. "A kind, special boy with a lion's heart. Better than me. Kinder. A ruler." He glanced at Darrow, sending a strange, meaningful glance in the Reaper's direction. "You would have been friends." Shiro couldn't tell if he was saying this to Lysander or Darrow.

"What happened to him," the young boy asked, trying to look dignified.

"They left that part out, eh?" Augustus remarked. "Well, a large young man from the House Bellona by the name of Karnus took liberties with a certain young woman my son was courting. My son took umbrage and challenged Karus to a duel. In the end, when my boy was broken and bleeding, Karnus kneeled, cupped my son's head" – he paused as he put one hand around Lysander's small, not-quite-innocent head – "And smashed it on the cobbled stones till it broke open and all his special-ness dripped out." He patted Octavia's grandson on the cheek as he finished. "Let's hope you never have to see such a thing."

"Is that your plan for me, my liege?" Lysander asked, mortal terror in his eyes despite the brave face he put on for the adults around him.  _Don't worry kid,_ Shiro promised silently, tensing up for a potential fight.  _If he even tries anything I'll cut his hand off._

"I'm only a monster when it's practical," Nero answered with a smile. Despite Mustang's promises and the fact that she was a good judge of character, Shiro wasn't reassured in the slightest. "I don't think I will have to this time," the governor of Mars continued. "You see, we're just trying to get home. So long as your grandmother permits our passage, then you will be safe."

"Grandmother says you're a liar," Lysander replied.  _Hypocritical,_ Shiro thought to himself, reminded of what Mustang has told him about her father's ability to keep his word and practice what he preaches.  _But not entirely wrong._ Despite Mustang's reassurances, the Black Paladin resolved, right then and there, to make sure that nothing happens to the kid even if it means breaking away from House Augustus.

"Ironic," the ArchGovernor responded with a dark chuckle. "You will tell her we've treated you well, I hope."

"If I am well treated," Lysander retorted. Shiro felt a surge of pride for the child's courage in standing up for himself.

"Fair enough," Augustus laughed as he touches the boy's shoulder and stood up. "Victra, take him to the passenger hold." The Julii heiress glowered, angry that her employer singled out the only woman in the cockpit beside his daughter for the task. Shiro noticed her reaction and was about to offer to do it himself, but Tactus beat him to it.

"Might I, my liege?" the lancer asked. "I've not seen my own brothers in some time. I wouldn't mind talking with the lad." Nero nodded as if to say he doesn't care who carries the order out as long as it got done. Victra thanked Tactus, surprised by his gesture. He winked at her, punched Darrow's shoulder, and patted Lysander roughly on the head, almost knocking the boy down.  _I'd hate to meet his brothers,_ Shiro thought to himself as Tactus lead Lysander au Lune away from the cockpit.

"They tried to kill me as I slept," Augustus murmured as the stork climbed higher and higher. Mustang announced that they're two minutes from the edge of the atmosphere. "She knows I will not forgive this."

"She'll come to Mars," Darrow said.

"Is there no chance for amends to be made?" Pliny asked. Shiro snorted incredulously at the thought of trying to make peace with a woman who just tried to have them all murdered, but Mustang voices the thought before he can.

"Amends?" she snarled. "Make amends with the woman who burned a moon, Pliny? Are you an idiot?"

"Peace will preserve your line, my liege," the Politico pleaded with the ArchGovernor. "More than war. Set yourself against the Sovereign, and what hope can there be?"  _For all his arrogance,_ Shiro observed as the man attempted to convince House Augustus not to go to war.  _Pliny clearly has a way with rhetoric._ But the head of the House was clearly having none of his Politico's words tonight.

"When the Sovereign pushed against me," Nero began, raising his voice. "I bent like Gold should: with grace, with dignity. But now she cuts at me, and beneath the grace, beneath the aplomb, her knife will strike iron. We make for Mars, and for war."

"We're reaching the lower atmosphere," Mustang announced. "Hold on."

"What is that light?" Sevro interrupted. "The blinking one over the altimeter."

"The cargo bay door is opening, dominus," the Blue snapped an answer.

"The cargo bay…" Darrow trailed off, frowning. "Can you over override it?"

"No, dominus," the Blue replied. "I'm locked out."  _But why is the cargo bay door still open?_ Shiro wondered.

"He volunteered," Mustang gasped. Her voice was panicked. "Tactus volunteered."

"No!" Darrow snarled, startling everyone but Mustang as realization dawned on everyone in the room.

"Sevro, Victra, on me!" Darrow shouted as he wheeled around and sprinted out the cabin doors, head ducked as he moved as fast as he can towards the back of the ship." Though he wasn't included in the orders, Shiro quickly followed behind, sprinting to catch up as he heard Darrow ordering the other Howlers and Housemembers to stay seated while they raced towards the cargo bay. The group slid down railings to the storage level. Up ahead, Darrow shoved open the door to the cargo hold to be greeted by the howling wind.

The hatch hung open, showing darkness wounded by the city lights far below. Clown and an Augustus lancer were bleeding and unconscious as they slowly slid towards the open bay door. Tactus was nothing but a distant dot in the darkness, but everyone knew what he'd taken.  _I may not have liked holding the kid hostage,_ Shiro thought.  _But now we've just lost our only bargaining chip for getting off Luna alive._ Darrow and Sevro caught the two unconscious Golds before they could slip down the open ramp. The doors hissed closed as Victra shut them at the control panel.

"He doesn't have any communications gear," she said breathlessly. "Not after the EMP."

"Doesn't need the gorydamn gear," Sevro snapped, pointing to Clown's naked feet. "The bastard has gravBoots. Soon as he hits the ripWing scanners, he'll be picked up." Shiro wasn't as familiar with the technology of the era as the others, but he saw Darrow's face contort as the lancer works his way through the math.

"We have two minutes till they send boarding parties," the Reaper announced.


	15. Helldiver

#### Stork Cockpit

#### Luna

#### December 18th, 2840

The group was silent as they stalked back to the cockpit with Darrow in the lead.  _I should have offered to watch the kid myself,_  Shiro chastised himself as they made their way towards the front of the ship.  _At least I could have fought Tactus when he tried to ditch us._

"Pilot, will you be able to take us clear?" Augustus asked the pilot just as the lancers and Howlers walked in.

"No, dominus," the pilot answered in typical Blue fashion – emotionally distant, efficient, and declarative. "Geomet models don't show a probability of escape."

"What is the likely scenario?" the ArchGovernor inquired.

"They will destroy our engines with ripWing fire," the Blue replied. "Precipitating a hull breach that will kill all aboard. Alternatively, precipitating a leechCraft assault. Capturing all aboard."

"Or they'll just blast us from the gory sky," Sevro added.

"Blue," Nero offered. "Deliver me to my ship and you will receive command of a frigate."

"I would prefer a cruiser," the woman noted.

"A cruiser, then," the Martian governor corrected.

"Very well," the Blue replied as she adjusted knobs on the control console. "I will fly well, but the paradigm must be altered before they engage our vessel, if we are to survive." Friction fire wreathed the ship as it climbed towards the edge of Luna's atmosphere.

"If the hull is breached," the Blue instructed. "Hold your breath, dominii. We don't have sufficient survival helmets aboard."

"Our lungs will explode if we do that," Victra commented with a frown.

"Then exhale," the Blue remarked. "And have thirty secs of life while eardrums explode and blood vessels swell like inflated balloons. I will hold my breath."

"I hate space," Sevro said as he looked back at Darrow, eyes wide.

"You hate everything," Darrow retorted. The fire around the ship faded as it popped clear of Luna's atmosphere and slipped into open space, where the Scepter Armada's capital ships glided back and forth like the behemoths of Europa's deep sea. Gun turrets covered their hides like barnacles, and hangar bays sliced their undersides like gills. Commercial ships floated slowly along the shipping lanes while ripWings and Wasps went about their patrols. None of those ships paid any heed to the Stork's presence except the ones that escorted the ship from Luna. The Sovereign wouldn't dare announce something like this.

 _What are our options?_ Shiro thought to himself, running through possible ways to "change the paradigm" in his head. Darrow did the same on the opposite side of the cabin as Augustus suggested bribing one of the warships into giving them shelter, only for Mustang to remind her father that their communications were being jammed and they couldn't even broadcast. After a moment of stalwart silence, the ArchGovernor placed a bony hand on his daughter's shoulder. She flinched, surprised at the gesture.

"Whether missile or boarding craft come," Nero said solemnly to the group gathered in the cockpit. "Die like Golds." It was the man said this that it finally hit Shiro that they'd just simply run out of options.  _This is it,_ he thought.  _I'm going to die._ He turned to the corner so the Golds in the flight cabin couldn't see the tears welling up in his eyes.  _After all that time fighting the Galra, I never imagined this would how it'd end for me. I always figured my worst-case scenario was Zarkon bringing us down with him. But just sitting here, waiting for the end, and trying to decide between a slow and agonizing death as my body shuts down and instant death by exploding lungs? Sacrificing myself to save the day is one thing, but I don't want to die like this!_

He was startled out of his panicking when Darrow grabbed Sevro by the shoulder and let out an eerie, horrible laugh as he told the pilot to take them closer to the deadliest ship in orbit.  _Is he insane?_ Shiro thought.  _That thing's heading to intercept us right now!_

"Take us near the  _Vanguard_ ," Darrow repeated to the Blue.

"That would cause our chances of survival to decrease by – " the Blue attempted to protest before Darrow interrupted.

"Never tell me the odds, just do it," the lancer commanded. Despite the seriousness of the situation, the unintentional pop culture reference was enough to calm Shiro down.  _Channeling Star Wars a bit, Darrow?_ He chuckled to himself.  _Should have seen that coming eventually._ Everyone else in the room turned to look at Darrow. Not because they were surprised by his orders, but because they'd been waiting to do so, silently praying he would come up with a plan. Even Augustus turned.

"You gone space mad?" Victra asked. "When they realize we don't have the boy…"

"Draw an angle towards the _Vanguard_ 's bridge," Mustang interrupted as she relayed orders to the Blue. At Mustang's orders, the pieces finally fell into place and Shiro caught up with what it was Darrow was planning.

"Hic sunt leones," Nero told the young lancer, already guessing what he has planned.

"His sunt leones," Darrow echoed. Before Sevro and the Reaper left the bridge, Shiro noticed the last look Darrow gives to Mustang, but she was too busy flying the ship to notice. The two Golds exited the bridge at a dead sprint. The ship shuddered as something hit.  _They know we don't have Lysander,_ Shiro realized as Pliny voiced the thought aloud. The Blue took over piloting while Mustang began charging Darrow and Sevro's spitTubes in the launchbay.  _Darrow and Sevo have a lot of guts being shot out into space like this,_ Shiro mused as he steadied himself against the shaking bulkheads.

"We're getting pinned in," Mustang announced to Darrow and Sevro over the comm. "Boarding parties imminent. Priming your launch." The ship moaned from the impact of another missile as the Blue reported that they'd just lost their shields. Now there was nothing holding the ship together except for the rickety hull.

 _"_ _Aim true,"_  Darrow told her over the comm.

"Always," she replied. "Darrow…" Shiro smacked himself in the forehead.  _You two can work out your relationship drama after,_ he pleaded silently.  _Right now, you two need to figure out how to say alive._

 _"_ _I'm sorry,"_  he told her.

 _"_ _Good luck,"_  she responded.

 _"_ _This is not fun,"_  Sevro interjected with a groan. After Mustang finished cycling through the preparations, a countdown began over the comm. When it reached zero, the two Golds' banter was abruptly cut off as they were fired soundlessly into space. Shiro watched as missiles and railgun fire from the greatest ship in the Scepter Armada streaked past the two armored Golds flying towards the dreadnought's bridge by the force of their own inertia.  _I just hope Darrow's plan works,_ he thought to himself.  _How exactly are they going to take an entire battleship by themselves anyway?_

As they watched the two young men disappear through the viewport of the Vanguard's bridge, the ship suddenly rocked with the force of a massive impact.

"leechCraft attached on the port side cargo hold," the Blue declared. "We've been boarded, Dominii."

"Shiro, with me!" Mustang ordered, taking charge of the situation. Shiro snapped to attention and followed her out of the cockpit and back towards the cargo hold. Roque, Quinn, Victra and the Howlers rushed to join them as they met in the cargo bay to find two dozen Gold lancers of House Lune pouring out of the enemy leechCraft. Razors and various other bladed weapons flew into everyone's hands as both sides charged into battle. Shiro ducked the swing of a razor from a Lune lancer before removing his opponent's arm, while Victra kept her razor in whip form until it was coiled around her foe's neck and decapitated the enemy lancer.

The fighting was swift, but intense. The Howlers used their small stature to their advantage to slip past the first wave and eliminate the rest of the boarding party. Roque and Quinn were a battle couple, taking down their foes together with ease. Shiro was about to join the Howlers aboard the boarding craft when he heard Mustang cry out in pain. He turned quickly around to see her fall to the floor, blood pouring from a long gash on her left arm. The Gold who'd struck her advanced menacingly towards her. Enraged, Shiro lunched forward, powered up the energy weapon in his artificial hand, and swung.

The Gold lancer didn't have time to scream as Shiro's glowing mechanical hand carved through the man's neck like a hot knife through butter. The lancer made no sound as he collapsed bloodlessly to the floor, the large gash in his throat cauterized instantly by the heat of Shiro's Galra-installed arm. Tears welled up in the Black Paladdin's eyes as he realized that this was the first time he'd ever deliberately killed another human being before. Even during the bloodbath at the gala, he'd only been acting in self-defense and had aimed to wound only whenever possible. But seeing his friend hurt, all he'd wanted to do was destroy the person responsible.

"Gory hell," Shiro whispered as the tears began to stream down his throat. "What have I done?" Mustang took notice of his distress and laid a comforting hand on his shoulder. While they'd only known each other for a little over two months, Virginia au Augustus had quickly become the younger sister he'd never had, and she'd once admitted to him that he reminded her of a younger version of her late brother Claudius. So, he appreciated the gesture of support, even more so when she deflected the Howlers' inquiries about his reaction and back to the situation at hand. The shudder of a second leechCraft latching itself onto the ship sent the Howlers sprinting towards the launch deck.

"It'll be alright," Mustang reassured him as she helped him to his feet. "We'll talk once we're safe, but you'll survive this, Shiro." Shiro nodded his head, wiping the tears from his eyes. He could focus on the shock later. Right now, they had to survive. But an instant later the ship rocked, and the duo had to grab onto the ladder leading up to the passenger cabin as atmosphere vented out into space for a few brief seconds. The Howlers rushed forward with gravBoots and joined them. Then, the battered Stork landed nose-first in the hangar bay of the  _Vanguard_. After making sure they were alright, the group headed back towards the cockpit to check on everyone else. The whole entourage was battered and bruised but otherwise unharmed. It was when they got to the cockpit and found the ArchGovernor staring out the viewport that they were truly surprised.

Out in the main hangar, Golds loyal to House Lune were gathering a group of warColors outside the stork, preparing to breach the cargo bay and board it while Oranges huddled to the side in fear. But then, a towering Obsidian walked into the room, and the Oranges rallied around him. Behind the Obsidian, armed Reds poured in from the halls. The Obsidian led the Oranges and Reds against the Golds as The Jackal explained that Darrow had convinced the ship's lowColor crew members to turn against their Gold commanders in exchange for not being vented out into space. But even with the aid of the Obsidian, the Reds and Oranges were dying quickly against their well-trained opponents.

But as they died, Shiro noticed a spark in their eyes through the cockpit. He recognized the look from when he and the other paladins liberated the Balmera from Galran control. It was the spark of individuality. Of freedom. Without a word, Mustang turned around and marched back to the cargo bay once more, Shiro, Victra, Roque, and the Howlers trailing behind her. As the bay doors opened, they charged out of the Stork and rushed to aid the lowColors in subduing the Golds aboard the warship. The Telemanuses trailed behind, but stayed clear of the large Obsidian leading the charge. The battle was short, but fierce, and as the conflict wound down, the hangar reverberated from the launching of broadsides and the impact of railgun ordnance against the dreadnought's hull.  _We're like the chest bursters from Alien,_ Shiro realized with a laugh as the last Gold fell to the gigantic Obsidian.  _Clawing our way out of the stomach of the Armada._

After a few tense minutes of waiting, the Rubicon Beacons passed by outside the viewports in the hangar's upper levels. They were clear of the armada. While the small Augustus fleet joined the five-kilometer long warship, along with those of the Cordovan, Telemanus, and Norvo families, the Yellows arrived in the hangar. The ship's medical staff quickly started darting around, aiding the wounded and carting them off to the medbay, with Grays and Oranges helping to carry. Weed prodded unarmed Golds with his razor while Shiro, Pebble and Harpy moved to assist the Yellows. Mustang stood under the stork's battered wings, conversing with her father. As Shiro walked out of the hangar, he passed Darrow, who quickly walked over to report to Augustus as the Black Paladin turned the corner and lost sight of the hangar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While Shiro did end up killing a few Golds during the gala, there wasn't really a chance for him to sit down and process the fact that he'd killed fellow human beings, and since he was only doing it in self-defense, I decided to save the angst for when he had actually deliberately aimed to kill. He'll still try to aim for wounding his opponents, but there will be few chapters where he reflects on the fact that living in the world of Red Rising is making him more ruthless and willing to kill, and those chapters will explore his fears about that.
> 
>  **Terminology:**  
>  **-leechCraft:** Small spacecraft designed for boarding and capturing enemy warships.


	16. Trust

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 12/31/17: Completely overhauled to expand on Shiro and Mustang’s conversation. I wanted her to basically tell him what the audience thinks every time he broods like that in either canon or fanficts.

####  _Pax_ Mess Hall

#### En Route to Mars

#### December 18th, 2840

As the fleet of House Augustus and its allies burned hard for Mars, Shiro sat alone in the mess hall of the dreadnought, which Darrow had renamed the _Pax._ While the rest of the household celebrated their victory and continued survival, the Black Paladin went off by himself to think. The events of the last twelve hours were finally starting to catch up with him. While he knew that Galra perished when he piloted the Black Lion against Zarkon's ships, he hadn't killed anyone face to face outside the gladiator arena before tonight. And while most of it was in self-defense or to protect his friend, the fact that he was willing to kill his opponents so easily troubled the young man.

 _What am I becoming?_ He thought to himself as he stared at the plate of food on his table. _It was one thing when I was a prisoner of the Galra. I was in a situation where I had to do whatever it took to stay alive. But even if I was just defending myself at the gala, I still killed people tonight. Fellow human beings. The Bellona may have been conspiring to assassinate the ArchGovernor, but that doesn't mean they have to die for it. Nor does it give me the right to kill anyone who gets in our way._ But what really bothered Shiro was that if he was willing to kill after only two months, how much more ruthless and bloodthirsty could he become the longer he was here?

When he'd acted violent and bloodthirsty to convince the Galra to put him in the ring instead of Matt, it had only been an act. Now, he was afraid that the next time he behaved like that it wouldn't be an act. That when he finally made it back home, he wouldn’t be able to be a part of Voltron. That the Black Lion would see him as just another Zarkon. He was snapped out of his internal self-deprecation when he heard the doors hiss open. He looked up from the table to find Mustang walking into the room. He let out a sigh as she approached his table, slipping his hand into his pocket and activating a jamField so they could converse in private. _I guess this is as good a time as ever to tell her the full story of how I ended up here,_ he thought to himself as she took a seat across from him.

“You already know about the mission to Kerberos,” he began sadly, a melancholic tone in his voice. He didn’t need to bother explaining the details of the expedition to her. Even if he hadn’t told her everything about his life pre-Galra, she had reviewed all the old documents and videos about the launch on her own time anyway. “I had a background in astrophysics, but I was mainly the ship’s pilot while Sam and Matt Holt did most of the research. On our first day collecting ice samples, we were abducted by an alien race called the Galra.” Mustang nodded. He knew she had inferred something along those lines from his reticence to talk about what had happened to him.

“You were prisoners,” she summarized. Shiro looked ill for a moment as he recalled the trauma he endured in captivity. There were still large chunks missing from his memory of that year, but what he did remember was nightmarish and brutal. He took a deep breath to steady himself before continuing. 

“To the Galra,” he explained. “Except for strategic value and skills, there was no difference between a prisoner and a slave. Commander Holt was sent to a work camp with the physically weaker captives. But since Matt and I were young and physically fit, we were sent to the gladiator arena. And in the Galra Empire, you either win, or you die.” Mustang’s face remained passive. Shiro knew that she could figure out all the things he left unsaid. She had been trained to mask her emotions, but he knew her well enough to recognize that she was horrified by what she was hearing.

“I had always hoped that humanity’s first contact with an alien civilization would be a peaceful one,” she said sadly. “But it seems I was disappointed in that regard. I understand this is a sensitive subject but judging by the armor I found you in I know there’s more to the story I need to hear. So, did Matt perish in the arena?” He shook his head, and grabbed the cup of tea he’d ordered to fortify himself before he answered her question.

“No,” he replied. “The two of us and the other prisoners captured from different planets at the same time as us were being sent in as cannon fodder for the arena’s reigning champion, some brute named Myzax. We were going to be slaughtered for the entertainment of Emperor Zarkon. Matt was supposed to go first, but he was panicking. He wasn’t in any condition mentally to fight, so I attacked him. I played the part of a bloodthirsty berserker and deliberately injured his leg so that they’d send me instead, and he’d be ruled unfit for the arena and sent off to the work camps with his father.”  Even though he’d done it to save Matt’s life, Shiro still blamed himself for being forced to hurt his friend.

Mustang placed a hand on his shoulder to comfort him. _Now she knows why I hate the Obsidian gladiator games so much, other than the obvious fact of slaves fighting for the entertainment of their masters,_ he thought to himself as he took another calming sip of tea.

“About a year into my captivity, I was given over to the Druids, the empire’s research division.”

“And they took your arm,” Mustang put the pieces together. Shiro nodded, swallowing the intangible lump in his throat before he could panic as he remembered going under the knife. Mustang got up from her seat and moved to sit next to him, giving him a hug as she sat down.

“Yeah,” he finally admitted, twisting his arm so that he wouldn’t hurt her when he turned on the energy weapon in his right hand. “They did. They were going to do more, but Ulaz, one of the doctors operating on me that day, turned out to be part of a resistance group called the Blade of Marmora, made up of Galra opposed to Zarkon’s rule. He freed me, and set off a bomb to cover my escape.” He didn’t need to elaborate on why Ulaz had rescued him. _All I have to do is give it a few seconds and let her brilliant mind work it out,_ he thought to himself as he imagined the metaphorical lightbulb going off over her head at the exact moment he knew she’d deduced Ulaz’s motive.

“There was something on Earth that Zarkon wanted,” she said.

“Bingo,” he continued. “You see, Zarkon had been conquering the known universe for the last ten thousand years. We still haven’t figured out how he’s managed to stay alive for so long. But before the empire began its campaign of conquest, there was a legendary superweapon that was the only credible threat to his rule. Voltron, a group of five flying mechanical lions that combine into a sixty-meter-tall robot warrior.” Mustang’s eyes widened, both in awe at the scale of Voltron, which was as tall as the average hangar on an Aureate warship, and in disgust at how Zarkon had kept himself alive for over ten millenia. While her father didn't use any such treatments himself, many older Golds continually used cellular rejuvenation therapy to extend their lives for up to a century and a half. Like many things in the world she knew, the very idea disgusted Mustang.

“I got a concussion during the chaos of my escape,” Shiro went on. “So, I don’t really remember much of my time as a prisoner of the Empire. Even now, most of it is still a dark haze in my mind. I only recall bits and pieces." Sweat streamed down his face, and the humming of the ship's engines around him sounded louder in his ears. Mustang gave him another hug, both to show her sympathy and to help him stay calm.

“When I landed back on Earth,” he said once he’d paused for a moment to breath. “The Galaxy Garrison was all over my escape pod, especially since I’d landed on the outskirts of the school’s property. But they wouldn’t listen to me. Admittedly, their concerns about alien pathogens and unfamiliar technology were valid things to be worried about, they just completely ignored my panic and went straight for the anesthesia. I tried to warn them of an imminent invasion and they acted like I wasn’t even there. Thankfully, Keith, Katie, and two other Garrison students spotted my crash and rescued me.”

“And from there you found the Voltron lion, and it brought you to a safe location from which you could gather the others and learn to pilot them,” she extrapolated. “Correct?”

“Yeah,” Shiro responded, letting out a relieved sigh. Talking about his experience with someone who knew nothing about it helped keep him calm in the midst of the brewing storm. “That's pretty much the gist of it.” He stifled a yawn as a cook came up and asked if they were hungry, offering to prepare them a feast fit for kings. _The Ash Lord must eat a lot if his cooks automatically assume everyone wants a feast,_ he thought to himself, shuddering at the reminder that this ship used to belong to the man who destroyed Rhea.

“No thank you,” Mustang told the Brown. “I just want some bacon and eggs.” But as the cook walked back to the kitchen, the two heard him babbling something about pheasant. They both chuckled, but as the laughter died down, the mood darkened once more as Shiro started to think about how his experiences, both here and in the arena, had changed him.   

“I never wanted to be a soldier growing up,” he admitted glumly. “Fighting and killing and dying on a battlefield never appealed to me as a career. But it seems like the universe has forced me into the role of a killer anyway.” Mustang put a hand on his shoulder. “First with the Galra, then Voltron, and now this. Even if I do make it back to my own time, there’s no way I’d ever be able to pilot the Black Lion again. Not after everything I’ve done.” Before he could say anything else, a wave of pain shot down his left arm and he cried out in pain as Mustang slapped him in the shoulder.

“That hurt,” he complained.

“Good,” Mustang retorted. “It was supposed to. Stop brooding about all the blood on your hands, Shirogane. You’re better than that. Don’t let the things you do when you have no other options define you. You never had a choice to take lives. Everything you did then was in the name of survival. Every life taken as a Paladin of Voltron was to save lives. The Galra killed in battle with Voltron chose to oppress the innocent. And the Golds you’ve killed tonight came at you with the intent to kill. Do you regret staying alive in the arena?”

“No,” he admitted sadly.

“Do you regret saving lives as a Paladin?” she asked.

“Never,” he snapped, angrier this time at the insinuation that he would ever regret the good he'd done.

“Do you regret staying alive now?” she demanded. Shiro took a deep breath.  

“No,” he answered firmly.

“Then, to borrow some slang from your time, stop bitching about how you’re unworthy of being a Paladin and own that shit. You’re not the only one with blood on their hands. I killed people tonight as well. As did Darrow, and Kavax, and Daxo. I’m sitting here lecturing you tonight because I killed someone in the Passage with my bare hands. Yes, it’s fucking unfair that the universe has forced us into positions where killing is as natural as the changing of the seasons. But what matters is why you kill, and what you do when you’re not killing. You are a gorydamn hero, and if the Black Lion can’t see that, then they’re the one who’s unworthy of having you as a pilot.” Tears welled up in Shiro’s eyes at how much faith Mustang had in him. He’d heard similar arguments from Keith, but there’d always been that nagging voice at the back of his mind saying that Keith and the others were biased. Mustang was far enough removed from the war against Zarkon that her lecture managed to pierce the veil of guilt and self-doubt that had been building up since his first day in the arena.

“I get it,” he replied, his voice cracking a little as he used his napkin to dry his eyes. “Thanks. I needed that.”

“You're gorydamn welcome,” Mustang said dramatically, laughing warmly as she gave him a pat on the shoulder. “Now, you need to get some sleep. It's been a long day for all of us and there will likely be several more ahead.”

“What about you?” he asked curiously.

“I can't sleep,” she answered, tapping the side of her head as she moved across to her original seat. “I've got too much rolling around up here.”

“Alright then,” Shiro replied. “Enjoy whatever it is the cooks ends up serving you.” They both chuckled at his exaggerated formality as he left the room.

“We can continue our discussion tomorrow,” she called back as he reached the door. As Shiro walked through the doors out of the mess hall, he passed Darrow. He turned around and caught sight of the Reaper of Mars approaching Mustang's table just as the doors hissed closed. _Good,_ the Black Paladin thought to himself. _Maybe those two can finally work things out._ And with that thought, he headed through the corridors in search of his designated quarters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The size of Voltron comes from the official twitter. The individual lions are about 25 meters tall on average while standing.


	17. Bacon and Eggs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another close-to-the-book chapter. Everything before "Not by yourself. You need me" is quoted directly from the second book.

####  _Pax_  Mess Hall

#### En Route to Mars

#### December 18th, 2840

****

"Can't sleep?" Darrow asked as he slid into the seat across from her.

****

"Lot rattling around," Mustang answered as she wrapped her knuckles against her head. "The cook's beside himself," she added. "Thinks I need a feast. Told him I just wanted bacon and eggs. Pretty sure he's disregarded everything I said. He babbled something about pheasant. Had this Earthborn accent. Hard to understand." Moments later, the Brown stumbled out of the kitchen, carrying not just bacon and eggs, but pumpkin waffles, cured ham, cheeses, sausages fruits, and a dozen other dishes as well. But surprisingly, no pheasant. His eyes turned the size of the waffles when he sees Darrow. The cook apologized for something, set the tray down, and disappeared, only to reappear a minute later with even more food.

****

"How much do you think we eat?" Darrow asked jokingly when he saw the tray full of more food than he was hungry for. The cook just stared at him, so Mustang thanked the man on his behalf. The Brown mumbled something inaudible and backed away, bowing as he did.  _The Ash Lord must eat enough food for an army if his cooking staff's default menu option is "feast,"_ she thought to herself with a chuckle.

****

"I think the Ash Lord was a bit different from us," Darrow said as she pushed the fruit towards him. "Thought you didn't like bacon."

****

"I had it every morning on Luna," she replied with a shrug while she delicately buttered her waffles. "Reminded me of you." She added, avoiding his eyes. "Why can't you sleep?"

****

"Not much good at it," he answered.

****

"You never were," she remarked teasingly. "Except when you had a hole in your stomach. You slept like a baby then."

****

"I think comas don't count," he said with a laugh. The two of them talked for several minutes about everything except the things they should. Their conversation was innocent and quiet, like two moths dancing around the same fire.

****

"Amazing how big the beds are, even on a starship," she commented. "Mine's monstrous. Too big, really."

****

"Finally!" Darrow proclaimed. "Someone agrees. Half the time, I sleep on the floor."

****

"You too?" Mustang asked with a shake of her head. "Sometimes I hear noises and sleep in the closet, thinking if someone's coming for me they won't look there."

****

"I've done that," he replied. "Really does help."

****

"Except when the closet is big enough to fit a family of Obsidians. Then it's just as bad," she finished with a chuckle. Suddenly, she frowned. "I wonder if Obsidians cuddle."

****

"They don't," he answered, causing her to raise her eyebrows.

****

"Have you researched it?" she inquired. He finished a handful of strawberries, shrugging as she frowned at his manners.

****

"Obsidians believe in three types of touch. The Touch of Spring. The Touch of Summer. The Touch of Winter. After the Dark Revolt, where the Obsidians rose in arms against the iron ancestors, the Board of Quality Control debated destroying the entire Color. You know how they gave them religion, stole their technology. But what they wished to kill most of all was the incredible kinship the Obsidians then possessed. So they instructed the shaman of the tribes, bought and paid for liars, to warn against touch, saying it weakened the spirit. So now the Obsidians touch one another in sex. They touch each other to prevent death. And they touch each other to kill. No cuddling." Her mouth twisted into a small smirk. "But of course, you already knew that," he added.

****

"I did," she confirmed with a smile. "But sometimes it's nice to remember all that's going on inside you."

****

"Oh," he said, embarrassed. He looked away when she tried to hold his gaze.

****

"I forgot you can blush!" she exclaimed, watching him for a moment. "You probably don't know this, but one of my dissertations on Luna concentrated on mistakes in the sociological manipulation theorems used by the Board of Quality control." She paused as she delicately cut one of her sausages. "I deemed them shortsighted. The chemical sexual sterilization of the Pink genus, for instance," has led to a tragically high suicide rate within the Gardens."  _Of course most Golds would simply label it as inefficient,_ she added bitterly to herself.

****

"The rigidity of laws maintaining the hierarchy are so strict, they'll one day break. Fifty years from now? A hundred? Who knows? There was this one case we studied where a Gold woman fell in love with an Obsidian. They had a black market Carver alter their reproductive organs so his seed was compatible with her eggs. They were found out and both were executed, their Carvers killed. But things like this have happened a hundred times. A thousand. They're just scrubbed from the record books."

****

"It's terrible," Darrow said.

****

"And beautiful," Mustang added.

****

"Beautiful?" he asked, sounding repulsed.  _Really?_ She thought.  _I figured that you, of all people, would see the beauty in it without needing to have it pointed out to you._

****

"No one knows of these people," she explained. "No one but a handful of Golds with access. The human spirit tries to break free, again and again, not in hate like the Dark Revolt. But for love. They don't mimic each other. They aren't inspired by others who come before them. Each is willing to take the leap, thinking they are the first. That's bravery. And that means it's a part of who we are as people. So how long, I wonder, till a group like the Sons of Ares finds the records, broadcasts them? They did it with Persephone. The girl who sang. It's only a matter of time." She paused and squinted as she noticed that Darrow suddenly looked as if he was about to cry. "What's wrong?" she asked.

****

"Dissertations," he replied. "Sociology. You and I specialize in very different things. I always wondered what your life was like on Luna."

****

"Oh?" she remarked, eyeing him playfully. "So you thought about me?"

****

"Maybe," he lied.

****

"Day and night?" she asked rhetorically. "What is Mustang wearing? What is she dreaming about? What boy is she kiss - ?" she paused, wincing at the reminder of her recent breakup with Cassius.

****

"Darrow," she began, changing the subject. "I want to explain something.

****

"You don't have to," he replied, waving her off.

****

" With Cassius it – " she tried to continue before Darrow cut her off.

****

"Mustang," he said. "You don't owe me anything. You weren't mine. You aren't mine. You can do what you want, when you want, with whomever you want." He paused. "Even though he is a gorydamn jackass." She laughed, but the humor faded as quickly as it came. She looked down and shook her head.

****

"I wanted it to be different," Mustang murmured. "You know that."

****

"Mustang…" Darrow began, resting his hand on her wrist. She feels so frail compared to his harden hands. "I think I know how you feel – " She jerked her hand away from him.

****

"How I feel?" she asked rhetorically.  _He did not just say that,_ she thought angrily.

****

"I didn't mean – " he tried to backpedal before their distracted by a noise. They looked to see the cook standing there awkwardly with another tray. He tiptoed to their table, set it down, and then leaft the room, backing away in awkward silence.

****

"Darrow," she began, peering fiercely up at him through the strands of hair that had fallen across her face. "Shut up and listen. All my life, I've been taught to regard my family over all else. What happened with my brother at the Institute… When I handed him over to you, that set me against everything I was raised to do. But I thought that you – " she paused to take a deep breath that wavered at the end. "- were a person who earned my loyalty. And I thought that it would be so much more important if I gave it to you in that moment than to Adrius, who has never lifted a finger on my behalf. I knew it was the right thing to do, but it was a repudiation of my father, of all he taught me. Do you even know what that means? He has broken families as easily as other men break sticks. He wields unimaginable power. But more than that."

****

"He is the man who taught me to ride horses," she continued. "To read poems and not just the military histories. The man who stood beside me, letting me raise myself up by my own strength when I fell. The man who couldn't look at me for three years after my mother died. That is the man I rejected you for. No," she stopped, correcting herself. "Not for you. For living differently, living for more. More than pride. At the Institute you and I decided to break the rules, to be decent in a place of horror. So we made an army of loyal friends instead of slaves. We chose to be better. Then you spat in the face of that by leaving to become one of my father's killers."

****

"No," she said, putting her finger in the air. "Don't speak. It's not your turn just because I pause."  _I am going to get this off my gorydamn chest now and get it over with,_ she told herself as she gathered her thoughts, pushing away her plate as she did so.

****

"Now, I'm sure you understand that I felt lost. One, because I thought I'd found someone special in you. Two, because I felt you were abandoning the idea that gave us the ability to conquer Olympus. Consider that I was vulnerable. Lonely. And that perhaps I fell into Cassius's bed because I was hurt and needed a slave to my pain. Can you imagine that? You may answer."

****

"I suppose," Darrow answered sheepishly, hesitant as he squirmed on his cushion.

****

"Good," Mustang replied, her lips forming a hard line. "Now shove that idea up your ass. I am not some frill-wearing tramp. I am a genius. I say this because it is a fact. I am smarter than any person you've ever met, except perhaps my twin. My heart does not make my brain a fool. I sought out a relationship with Cassius for the same reason I let the Sovereign think she was turning me against my father: to protect my family." She paused as she looked down at her food.

****

"I've always been able to manipulate people," she went on. "Men, women, it makes no difference. Cassius was a walking wound, Darrow, raw and bloody despite the fact that it has been two years since you killed Julian. I saw it in him in a second, and I knew how I could make him love me. I gave him someone who would listen, someone who would fill the void." The sternness in her voice faded as she looked around, hoping for an escape from the conversation she started.

****

"I made him think he could not live without me," she continued. "I knew it was the only thing that could keep the rest of my house safe. I knew it was the best weapon I could wield in this game. Over time, I did develop feelings for him, but still I felt so cold. So horrible. Like I was the cruel witch snaring Odysseus, making him fall in love, keeping him for my own selfish aims. It seemed so logical. And when he put his arms around me, I felt like I was drowning. Like I was lost, suffocating under the weight of all I'd done, suffocating knowing there was a life ahead of me with someone who, despite the attracting I had felt during our courtship, I ultimately did not love.

****

"Yet it was for family," she finished, shaking her head, tears building in her eyes. "It was for the people I love even if they don't deserve it. Then you walked into the gala, and… and it was like the ground had broken open to swallow me. I'd broken things off with Cassius already but still I felt like a fraud. A wicked girl who'd contrived a reason to do something stupid." She paused as she tried to wipe her eyes as the tears began to fall. "Can't you see why I did it? I didn't want you to die. I don't want you to die. Not like my brother, Claudius. Not like Pax. I would have done anything to stop it."

****

"I can stop it," Darrow said.

****

"You're not invincible, Darrow," she retorted. "I know you think you are. But one day, you'll find out you aren't as strong as you think you are, and I'll be alone."

****

"You're not wicked," he said as he took her hand in his. "You are not cruel." She shook her head as she tried to pull away, but Darrow took her jaw between the fingers of his right hand and tilted her head until she was looking directly into his eyes. "And what you do for the people you love cannot be judged. Do you understand?" He repeated himself, deepening his voice. The second time she nodded.

****

"You can't trust him," she said quietly.

****

"Who?" Darrow asked, startled by her sudden words.

****

"My twin," she whispered, as if the Jackal was sitting in the corner of the room with them.  _And even if we are alone,_ she thought.  _I wouldn't put it past Adrius to have listening devices all over the ship._ "He's not a man like you," she told him. "He's something else. When he looks at us, when he looks at people, he sees sacks of bone and meat. We don't really exist to him." She clutched his hand as he frowned. "Darrow, listen to me. He is the monster they don't know how to write stories about. You cannot trust him."

****

"I don't trust him," he said. "But I need him."

****

"We can win this war without him," she replied. Her plea for Darrow to break off the alliance he'd forged with her brother before the gala went unsaid.

****

"I thought you said I wasn't strong enough," he protested.

****

"You're not," she answered a smile that quickly turned into a lopsided grin. "Not by yourself. You need me."

****

"I wish it was that simple," he replied. "On the subject of people we don't trust, though, there's something suspicious about that lancer who came back with you. Shiro au Terranova. I heard his story from Tactus, but where's he really from?" Despite his tone, Mustang knew he didn't mean the question as an accusation or insinuation that Shiro couldn't be trusted. Darrow knew her too well and knew that she wouldn't allow someone to accompany them in their escape from Luna if she didn't trust them completely. And he also knew her well enough to know when she had fabricated a story to convince her father to hire the twenty-five year old lancer. He was just genuinely curious to know what the real story was.

****

"You're probably not going to believe this," she said nervously. "But he's from the past." Darrow's face scrunched up in confusion.

****

"What do you mean?" he asked.

****

"I mean he simply appeared in the Citadel gardens on Luna out of thin air in a flash of light," she answered. "There was no sign of malfunctioning gravBoots or pulseArmor, and when he woke up, he was completely ignorant of the hierarchy." Darrow rested his chin against his hand as he contemplated what she was telling him.

****

"There was also the fact that he was wearing armor that was nothing like any kind of armor that our society has ever seen," she added. "His hair and eyes were from entirely different Colors." Now Darrow leaned forward in his chair. 

****

"And time travel was the best answer you could come up with?" he asked.

****

"Of course," she replied. "Once you've run out of logical explanations for something, you have to start considering the impossible." As the two rekindled the close friendship they had shared at the Institute, they continued to talk for several more minutes about the different theories of time travel before Darrow finally became tired enough to return to his stateroom.

****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Background Info:**  
>  -Because Reds mining under the surface of Mars only live till their thirties or forties, they basically get married as soon as they finish puberty. Darrow was married at sixteen to his childhood friend Eo. He was content to just live his life as a minor and provide for Eo, but she was the one trying to stir up rebellion. After they got caught sneaking into a restricted area at her urging, both were whipped as punishment. But then Eo deliberately escalated the situation by singing a song of rebellion, the punishment for which is immediate execution, trying to make herself a martyr on purpose. After her death, the Sons of Ares turned footage of her singing and execution into a viral video. Nobody outside Lykos mine and the Sons know her name, so she's known by the moniker of Persephone.
> 
>  **Terminology:**  
>  **-Gardens:** The schools where Pinks learn how to serve Golds both in and out of the bed.  
>  **-Olympus:** The flying island that functions as the Institute's equivalent of a teachers' lounge.


	18. Into the Fold

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> # Part III: Conquer
> 
> # "When falls the Iron Rain, be brave."
> 
> # "Be brave."
> 
> # Lorn au Arcos

####  _Pax_ Officers' Quarters

#### En Route to Europa

#### January 21st, 2841

 _I really hope Darrow knows what he's doing,_ Shiro thought to himself as he dried himself off in the shower of his private cabin aboard the _Pax_. He’d just spent the morning working out in the dreadnaught’s fitness center with Vicra, Roque, and Quinn and it was almost lunch going by the ship’s clocks. He had to find things to do to keep himself busy, and daily exercise routines were the easiest option. It had been a month since the Augustus household and their allies had fled Luna. Through crafty planning, the Sovereign’s forces had already beaten them to Mars, forcing them to flee beyond the fourth planet’s orbit towards the asteroid belt. Two days ago, the ArchGovernor had met with his bannermen and other vassals to plan their next moves. That had been where Darrow had proposed a daring plan to win the war with Lune. Since the plan required the fleet to split up, he hadn’t seen Mustang since the day of the meeting. 

Praetor Licenus had been given command of the Augustus fleet to lead the Sovereign's forces on a wild goose chase. While he kept Lune’s fleet occupied, the ArchGovernor would lead a small strike group of corvettes and frigates to the Gas Giants and raid the shipyards of Ganymede. Mustang took a portion of the household fleet to attack the Institutes across the solar system, along with the Academy in the asteroid belt, and abduct all the students for ransom. Meanwhile, Darrow and the remaining lancers of House Augustus, including Shiro, were burning hard for Europa to convince the legendary Olympic Knight Lorn au Arcos to join their cause. They were three days into their two-week voyage to Jupiter's Galilean moons, and Shiro already missing being able to talk to Mustang. With her heading off to the Academy, he could only take off the mask in the privacy of his own room.

It was lonely without someone he could be honest with. He still hung out with Victra, Roque, Quinn, and the others, but he could never relax around them. Every word had to be carefully measured, every reference to his fake backstory consistent with each other. Still, it wasn’t entirely bad. They were starting to trust him a little more, at any rate. He was an outsider to them, so they’d all been wary of him, before the Gala. Saving Quinn’s life had bought him some leeway, and they were starting to include him in the group more. But there was still that lingering undercurrent of paranoia beneath their interactions. Which made sense, he supposed. Even if the suspicion and mistrust was a little annoying at times, it wasn’t unjustified. Tactus’ sudden betrayal had cut deeper than any of them were willing to admit.

Despite all the things he’d heard about Tactus, Shiro wasn’t exactly sure what to think about the man’s treachery. On the one hand, he’d seen the way Tactus acted around his friends, and that persona matched the way the others talked about him. But Shiro kept thinking back to the night they first met, when Tactus welcomed him to the Augustus household and offered him a drink. Tactus had practically bared his soul that night, stripping off the mask of snark and vitriol to reveal the wounded and insecure young man underneath. Despite claiming that he’d only invited Shiro for a drink out of boredom and timing, the Black Paladin suspected that Tactus had just been looking for someone to listen to him vent without judging. None of the others could see through Tactus’ shell, and Shiro suspected that nobody but Darrow even recognized the man’s rudeness for the armor it was clearly intended to be.

Maybe it was the fact that his teammates considered him The Dad Friend, but to Shiro, Tactus’ hidden insecurities stuck out like a sore thumb. So, he was had a pretty good feeling about why Tactus had betrayed them. The others might say the man did it for his own glory, but Shiro remembered Tactus talking about the relentless stream of messages from his family trying to get him to ditch the Reaper for a position higher up on the social ladder. _After a few days of it, it’s possible they finally managed to pressure him into leaving,_ Shiro mused as lay awake on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. They’d only really known each other a few days, but Shiro hoped that there would be an opportunity to talk to Tactus if they saw him again. Darrow had tried and failed to inspire Tactus to let his guard down and be the man he wanted to be, but maybe he just needed someone with an outside perspective for it to finally stick.

His contemplation was interrupted by a knock at the door. Shiro frowned. After a month, the lowColors on the ship had gotten used to his odd habits (meaning he treated them like human beings instead of cogs in a machine), and so they knew that if another Gold wanted to see him they had to message his datapad or come get him themselves. But most of the Golds here preferred to message him, rather than come all the way down to his quarters. The others had talked him into joining them for a movie marathon on the HC that everning, but it was still a few hours before they were going to start. Taking a moment to sit up and reapply his contact lenses, he turned off the jamField and opened the door to find Sevro waiting for him with an impatient glare on his face. _What did I do to piss him off?_ He wondered.

“Reaper wants to talk to you,” the Howler said bluntly before gesturing for Shiro to follow. The Black Paladin shrugged, and closed the door behind him before he and Sevro headed off to Darrow’s stateroom. Augustus was very particular about the social pecking order, therefore since Darrow took the ship, he had dibs on the largest room, a lavish suite that had once belonged to the Ash Lord himself. The two men arrived to find Ragnar, the hulking Obsidian who had been instrumental in taking the ship, standing guard outside the door. After the gargantuan knight made them wait for Darrow to come to the door and invite the duo in, the two young men followed the Reaper of Mars into his quarters. While he kept his expression neutral, Shiro noticed the telltale signs of Darrow activating a jamField before gesturing for the Black Paladin to take a seat at the table set up in the middle of the suite’s dining room.

“Mustang told me about where you really came from,” the man said. “I’m still trying to wrap my head around time travel, but I trust her. I just wanted to let you know so you knew that Sevro and I were here if you wanted to talk.” Shiro sighed as he released a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding in. _Well at least I’m not alone anymore,_ he thought to himself. _But now’s my chance to confront Darrow about my suspicions._

“That's a relief,” the time traveler remarked. But he didn’t completely relax yet. He could tell from their body language that Darrow and Sevro had something else they wanted to tell him, and he had a pretty good feeling what it was. “I was worried I'd be stuck on my own on this ship for weeks having to keep up appearances in front of everyone. This whole color-coded hierarchy disgusts me, honestly. It may have been created with good intetions, but as it is now, it’s just an engine of oppression that allows Golds to live a life of luxury built on the backs of everyone else.” Darrow and Sevro nodded, and Shiro sighed in relief. _It looks like they feel the same way,_ he noted to himself. _Good. So how they react next will determine whether my theory is correct._

“You’re right,” Darrow began. “The hierarchy has become a pyramid where every Color exists to prop up Gold. Since you’ve managed to keep your secret for all these months, I feel it’s only fair that I trust you with mine. I not actually related to the family Andromedus. You’re not the only one with a false paper trail.” _I had my suspicions, but I wasn’t expecting him to just come out and tell me,_ Shiro thought. But by the time the thought entered his head, his mouth was already ten seconds ahead of brain.  

“You’re a Red, aren’t you,” he blurted out, wincing as soon as the words left his lips. He bit his lip and mentally smacked himself for letting his relief at having someone to talk to about his real past lower his guard. He braced himself for Darrow to react angrily to the accusation, but when he opened his eyes, he found Darrow starring at him, dumbstruck as he slouched down in the seat of his own chair. The awkward silence was shattered when Sevro started laughing like a hyena.

“This is too bloodydamn rich, Reap,” the Howler cackled. “We finally decide to tell him, and he already figured it out on his own.” The laughter managed to break the tension in the air, and soon all three of them were laughing at the absurdity of their situation.

“What gave me away?” Darrow asked once the laughter had died down.

“It wasn’t that you gave yourself away,” Shiro replied. “But with how antagonistic you were towards the Bellona during your duel with Cassius, it felt like you were trying to provoke them into attacking us like they did. Combined with some of my thoughts on the Sons of Ares and the similarities between our official backstories, and it was the only explanation that made sense.” Sevro chuckled.

“That’s why I didn’t trust you when we first met on Luna,” the lead Howler admitted. “One of Darrow’s friends from the Sons tracked me down during our layover on Triton and told me the truth. Showed me footage of Reaper’s carving and everything. Darrow had already told me he hadn’t been the only Red they’d carved. So, when I heard your fake history from Mustang while we were on Luna, I thought you might’ve been one of them.”

“I’m fairly certain it was only me and Titus who were carved,” Darrow commented. “The Sons of Ares were concentrated on Mars, so it’s unlikely they went looking for Reds offworld.”

“Still,” Sevro commented as he turned to address the Black Paladin. “Made me think that maybe Mustang had been helping the Sons on the side herself with how invest she was in getting her father to hire you.”

“Nope,” Shiro replied. “She hasn’t put the pieces together yet. She’s still suspicious about how you antagonized the Bellona, but the last time I talked to her, she just thought that you knew in advance about the Sovereign’s plot to have the Bellona assassinate her father.” Darrow breathed a sigh.

            “That’s a relief,” the younger man commented. “Part of me is afraid of how she would react, but another part of me wants to tell her. For two years I thought she would distract me or compromise my mission, but she’s the point of it all. I’ve seen it break her to act as Golds are expected to. Even if the we declared open war tomorrow, Gold would fight to the last man. That would just be revenge, not justice. Mustang proves that isn’t the only option.” Shiro and Sevro shared a knowing smirk as Darrow talked. It was obvious how much Darrow loved her. Now if only they could find a time for him to tell her and for them to talk about his secret, the two would be even closer than they were before. _If I could figure out Darrow’s secret from my own secrets,_ Shiro thought to himself. _Then it’s only a matter of time until Mustang puts the pieces together herself._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1/2/18: Since I moved the chapters where Roque and Quinn get brought in until after Europa, I cut out that original part of the conversation, and expanded on the conversation to focus on Darrow telling Shiro his secret, and I removed the gym scene to spend more time in Shiro’s thoughts regarding Tactus’ betrayal.
> 
>  **Background Info:**  
>  -Lorn au Arcos is the former Rage Knight (the title currently being held by Sevro's dad, Fitchner). He retired to Luna in between _Red Rising_ and _Golden Son_ , partly out of disgust for the political corruption of The Society, and partly from disillusionment after his son (who was married to Octavia's daughter) died in a shuttle "accident" that may or may not have been engineered by Octavia as part of a plan to thwart a possible attempted coup by her daughter.


	19. The Stormsons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 11/16/17: Added a new chapter to focus on Europa. Roque and Quinn being brought in on Darrow's secret has been moved to later in the story.

#### Arcos Estate

#### Europa

#### February 1st, 2841

Under better circumstances, Shiro would have loved Europa. But unfortunately, circumstances conspired to ruin his first impression of the smallest Gallilean moon. While floating around at 0.136 of Earth's gravity was something he would have enjoyed doing, they'd come expecting a battle, and a fight here would be like a ballet underwater. He and Darrow had to wear gravBoots just to move comfortably in this environment, and even then, every step they took needed to be measured and controlled. There was also the fact that they were there for business, not pleasure. As it was, Shiro stayed just out of earshot while Darrow conversed with his old razormaster, the former Rage Knight Lorn au Arcos, to aid them in their war against the Sovereign.

He watched the ex-Olympic Knight lean over the balcony of his castle. It was a limestone fortress set amid a ninety-kilometer-deep ocean. Rather than the medieval citadel Shiro had expected, the complex was a meld of past and present – glass and steel making hard angles with the stone island – much like the man Darrow respected above all other Golds of the man's generation. Like Arcos, the castle was a harsh place when storms came. But when the storms faded, the place would be bathed in sunshine, shining through the glass walls, and glinting off steel supports. Children would run the castle's ten-kilometer length, through the gardens, along the walls, and down to the harbor.

Wind would tickle the children's hair, and all the old Rage Knight would be able to hear from the library would be the crying of seagulls, the crash of the ocean, and laughter of his grandchildren and their mothers, who he guarded in place of his dead sons. The only one missing from his brood was Lysander. Like Darrow, Shiro got the sense that if all Golds were like Lorn au Arcos, the hierarchy would remain in place, but he would not be excessive about it, or try to hide the oppression of the system with lies like Octavia and Augustus did with the lowReds on Mars, or the Obsidians at the poles of every colonized planet and moon. It didn't necessarily make the man a good person, but it at least meant Shiro could be certain that there was no hypocrisy and deception with him. Lorn au Arcos was thick and broad. About the same height as Shiro, if not a few inches taller. The man let his empty tumbler of whiskey go and let the wind swoop it sideways off the balcony, down into the sea. He muttered something too quiet for Shiro to hear, but he was able to hear Darrow's reply.

"Storms of court have a way of drawing people back in," the Reaper said. Arcos laughed derisively, wordlessly scorning the idea that Darrow would know anything about the storms of court, or the winds that blow through the halls of power. The Black Paladin had accompanied Darrow and his inner circle to Arcos' estate in secret, flying with only a single ship, the five-kilometer destroyer Darrow had captured in their escape from Luna six weeks ago. Darrow had told Shiro that Lorn would not help them, but still held on to home that the man would want to help. Yet now that they met the man in person, Shiro knew Darrow was worried. Arcos knew that the Reaper's captains and lieutenants were listening through the com unit in Darrow's ear. Besides the presence of Shiro himself, Darrow had paid his respects and showed his com to Lorn so that the Rage Knight wouldn't assume their conversation was private.

Shiro followed behind as Arcos led Darrow inside off the balcony just as a cloud spat blue lightning across the dark sky. Europa's oceans bucked and heaved as great swells of water slithered and seeped along the white walls of the retired knight's island fortress, as if the stormy ocean world conspired to swallow the man-made island. But despite all of that, the castle, the storm, and Shiro himself feel so small compared to how large Jupiter loomd in the night sky behind the clouds. Darrow had described it as a textured gas giant staring down at them like the head of a great marble god, and the time traveller had to agree with that assessment. Arcos cheerfully greeted every servant the trio passed, seeing people, rather than Colors. Not for the first time, Shiro wondered about the odds that Lorn's view on the hierarchy might be swayed enough to side with the Sons if he learned the truth about Darrow.

Children's toys littered the halls. The Rage Knight's family was there with him on Europa, dozens of loved ones he brought together after he left public life on Mars behind two years ago. Most of them lived scattered along the southern archipelagoes in the warmer waters near the Jovian moon's equator, but hurricanes had forced them north that month to take refuge with Grandfather Lorn. It seemed to Shiro that the storm had followed them there. He kept a respectful distance behind the other two men as Arcos pushed open a grand glass gate leading into the center of his citadel, where he kept a forest several acres large and open to the air. The walls stretched around the forest, closing it off from the vicious waves, and Lorn's standards – a roaring purple griffin on a snow-white field – whipped high in the air. Rain fell on the trees, hissing into the needles until Arcos activated a pulseBubble. Then the rain sizzled on the roof of the force field and folded up in thick clouds of vapor.

The old Rage Knight walked ahead of them, but Shiro and Darrow lingered. Darrow took small black spikes from a hidden pouch in his sleeve and scattered them through the moss just outside the door. Arcos looked back curiously as he asked why Darrow had come to him in a stolen warship asking for his ships and his men. Darrow sped up his gait while Shiro took over dropping a few more spikes when the old man turned again. Shiro stood against the tree in silence as Darrow tried to persuade Arcos to join them in their war against the Core. But Arcos refused to participate, explaining in detail that Augustus was just as much a tyrant as Lune was. While Shiro knew that they needed the old man's help to stand a chance against the Sovereign, but he shared the Rage Knight's disgust for the Martian ArchGovernor's uxoricide, and he could empathize with the older man's desire to avoid going to war again.

Rain dripped from the pine trees as the three men walked through the forest to find Icarus, Arcos' pet griffin, sleeping in a bed of moss on a high promontory inside the forest. Despite himself, Shiro gasped as he took in the sight of the majestic creature, carved by Violets right out of ancient myth and legend. The best's paws curled into its body, wings curved around it as it slept, iridescent and glittering with droplets of water. Icarus was gigantic, his head almost as large as Darrow, and each of his eyes nearly the size of Shiro's skull. The Black Paladin stood still, in awe of the creature as he marveled at the Carvers' work.  _I've been living on Luna for two months,_ he thought to himself in amazement.  _But it's still another thing altogether to see what Carvers are capable of._

He was dimly aware of Darrow and Arcos discussing the details of the griffin's creation as he watched it in awestruck wonder at how far human technology had come. He forced himself to focus on his surroundings as the conversation shifted towards a critique of Darrow's fighting form during the duel with Cassius back on Luna. After Darrow made a comment to the effect that he knew Arcos cared about him, the old man went quiet. Shiro took a deep breath to steady himself. They'd known this moment was coming, but that didn't mean that they welcomed it. In fact, when they'd been making their plans, Darrow had admitted he'd been dreading it.  _But there's no turning back now_ , Shiro thought to himself.  _We need to see this through to the end_.

"In another life, you would have been one of my sons, Darrow" the old warrior began as he addressed the young warlord. "I would have found you earlier, before whatever happened that filled you with this rage. I would not have raised you to be a great man. There is no peace for great men. I would have had you be a decent one. I would have given you the quiet strength to grow old with the woman you love. Now all I can give you is a chance." Then his voice boomed as he called for his griffin.

"What's going on?" Darrow asked.

"Look to your ship," Arcos answered as he pointed upward into the night. Through a break in the clouds, the three men could see the long form of the  _Pax_ glittering in orbit. But it was no longer alone. Ten torchShips were coming for it now, slipping around the cover of Europa's equator to capture her. Shiro's eyes widened at the sight. He'd been expecting an ambush like this but not so many ships.

"A Praetorian death squad waits for you inside my home, Darrow." The Rage Knight continued. "Aja au Grimmus leads the. They will take you, chain you, and bring you before the Sovereign." Shiro paled at the thought of confronting Aja au Grimmus again. He'd been high on adrenaline when he'd burned her arm on Luna. If they faced her now, she'd probably tear his head off on sight.

"You betrayed me?" Darrow asked.  _They probably threatened his family to make him cooperate,_ Shiro observed as she remained by the Reaper's side.

"No," the former Olympic answered. "They arrived days ago. They threatened. What could I do? Kellan au Bellona leads their fleet. It will destroy or capture your ship. I can't stop that. But I do not want you to die. So, Icarus will take you and your bodyguard to an island where I have hidden a ship for you. Use it to escape."

"Will they hurt your family if I escape?" the Reaper inquired. Shiro figured they probably would, and the Rage Knight shared that assessment.

"They may try," Lorn growled as he stood with his back to the sea. "That is the consequence of your decision and mine. I want to fade in peace. So please, leave and never return, Darrow." The man gestured to his pet griffin and Shiro saw a thin saddle on the beast's back, the new toy Arcos and Darrow had discussed earlier. But they didn't need to flee, and Darrow shook his head for what was about to happen.

"I'm sorry, my friend," the Reaper told Arcos. "But I cannot allow that."  _About time,_ Shiro thought with a smile.

"Allow?" the old man commented, turning.

"You will join us in this war," Darrow replied as his razor uncoiled. "Whether you ike it or not." He spoke into the com, telling the Howlers to prepare to rise and for the Telemanuses to bring the ships around. Shiro fought to keep his expression neural as the blood drained from Lorn au Arcos' face and the man looked at the beast emblazoned on the younger men's tunics.

"A lion after all," he said. Darrow had prepared this trap before they'd even left the main fleet. As Mustang had told Shiro before the fleet had separated to carry out the Reaper's long-term strategy, all secrets found themselves whispered into Pliny's ears. And Pliny would wish for nothing more than Darrow's timely demise, especially after the young warlord had provoked him in the ArchGovernor's war council meeting. So, the Politico did his work, scheming and plotting until he found himself an ally against the big, bad Darrow au Andromedus in the Sovereign herself, a fact that Shiro knew Darrow would be happy to share with Augustus as soon as possible.

The Sovereign's ships had hidden themselves among the ruins of a derelict space station that had once been used as a terraforming base. Kellan au Bellona, Cassius' uncle, was smart, but predictable. Darrow's larger, secondary force, a detachment of Telemanus ships, which had been hidden by the mass of another, smaller moon, would ambush the Bellona force in the next sixty seconds, slingshotting around the other side of the moon by using its gravity to gain velocity. With Roque in command, Darrow's personal armada would add ten Bellona ships by the end of the day.

"You knew," Arcos accused Darrow, his thick hand gripping the Reaper's uniform at the neck and shaking him. Shiro smirked as he put a hand on his razor, ready to act should the Rage Knight turn violent but enjoying how smoothly their trap had been sprung. "You knew." Shiro pitied the old man, knowing what this meant for him. It wasn't simply Darrow's victory, it was the Rage Knight's defeat. One way or another, he had to ally himself with a faction. And Darrow had made it easy for the man to pick aside.

"'If you're a fox, play the hare.'" Darrow replied, quoting Arcos' lessons back to him. "Isn't that what you taught me? But it will look like you knew I set a trap for her. That you slipped news of her trap to me." Darrow touched the man's shoulder as he released him, and Shiro relaxed. "I am sorry, friend. Truly. But you are part of this war." Arcos worked his jaw, but said nothing.

"The Sovereign will send her Praetorians again to Europa once I have left," the Reaper continued. "Only this time, they'll come for you and yours. Their black-and-purple ships will shell you from orbit till your islands and your cities on the archipelagoes and mainland and the rising mountains in the south are made of glass and swallowed by the seas. The waters will weep over your shattered towers, and of your house, there will be nothing but crypts in the deep. Unless we win." Arcos searched Darrows eyes, desperately trying to think of something that could buy himself time. But instead, Shiro knew that the old man only saw what had made him take Darrow under his wing from the start – himself. Most men would give anything to see that, but here and now, the Rage Knight clearly wished to see anything else.

"I put my family at risk to help you escape," Arcos snapped at the young warlord. "I took you in, taught you. And you betray me like the others. Like Aja."

"You let me come here, Lorn," Darrow retorted. "You would have consigned my friends above to torture and death even as you gave me a path to escape. But my friends will not be prisoners." Darrow pointed upward to the fiery gashes in the night sky as the secondary force rocketed around Europa. "Hate me," the young man told Arcos. "But fight at my side. Only then will your family survive. He put a hand out for his former teacher, but Arcos pulled out his razor.

"I should kill you," the ex-Rage Knight replied. Shiro slipped into a combat stance, ready to pull his razor or activate the energy weapon in his hand if the Peerless Scarred even tried. Over the com, Sevro asked if he could come and shoot the old man, but Darrow told him to hold. Arcos reminded the two men that he could have his own House's fleet destroy theirs. But as Darrow pointed out, his ships would take the Sovereign's by the time the Arcos ships could get in range.

"But she would know then where House Arcos stands," the patriarch replied. "She would know that you tricked me. That my house is not part of this."  _Not like you'd have a choice either way,_ Shiro thought quietly as he sparred a glance at the battle above. It was almost laughable how thoroughly Kellan au Bellona's forces were being routed. He half listened as Darrow dared the old soldier to launch his ships if he believed their cause evil, to put the Reaper down if he believed the young man was a monster. The Black Paladin brought his gaze back to the ground as Darrow stepped forward, closer to his mentor.

"But you know the heart that beats inside," Darrow finished. "Choose me, or choose that darkness." Darrow nodded down the hill of the forest to where the three men had entered the room. Shiro went back into a combat stance as twelve Obsidian Praetorians filed through the same glass door they'd used to enter the garden, huge men and women in black-and-purple armor and skull helmets. Only one of the warriors was a Stained, thinner than the others, with white armor splashed with colors like blood. The kill squad was less than fifty meters away, accompanied by the Protean Knight, shorter than the rest, but more glorious in her golden gear. Aja's razor shimmered with the colors of a nebula, and her armor writhed like the waves that battered the white walls of this island. She peered up to the night sky, where she saw Darrow's ambush unfolding as she let her helmet recoil into her armor.


	20. Old Man's Wrath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 11/16/17: New chapter. The original chapter with Roque reflecting on his choices has been moved to later in the story

#### Arcos Estate

#### Europa

#### February 1st, 2841

"And then the traitors were three," the woman called out. "House Arcos has embraced treason as well. Lorn. You stand with the lions?"

"The House Arcos stands apart," the razormaster called back.

"Apart?" The Portean Knight frowned and titled her head so that Shiro and Darrow could both see the dueling scars on the right side of her neck. Her eyes scanned the woods for signs of a trap like a cat. "There is no such thing."

"I was as deceived as you, Aja!" Arcos replied. "Darrow knew you were here. I don't know how. But I am not your enemy. I want only to be left alone."

"That was never a choice!" Aja fired back. "You know this better than anyone. You are with us or against us, Lorn."

"Aja, no," the old man yelled. "I have no part in this! None!"

"The strong always have a part," Darrow muttered.

"I will not have my hand forced!" the Rage Knight snapped as he stared wrathfully at the Reaper. "I have no quarrel with either of you. I am a man of peace now."

"Then why is your blade out?" Aja retorted with a smile. "Do what you know. Come down and speak, teacher. We should not shout! Isn't that what you said when I used to raise my voice in anger?" She eyed the griffin that now growled beside the three men. It was larger than four horses, and Shiro was wondering what its talons could do against their foes' armor. Darrow whispered as he rhetorically asked his mentor what the Sovereign would have Aja do now that her ships were lost. Though they all knew the answer, Shiro's heart sank a tiny bit when Arcos replied that his former pupil would kill them out of spite.

Beside them, Darrow knelt to the ground and gathered dirt in his hand. Aja watched them, wondering what the Reaper had planned. She had clearly studied the young warlord, and knew that if he had really set an ambush in the sky, there was no reason he wouldn't set one on the ground as well. A shiver rolled down Shiro's spine as the Fury directed her hateful glare at him, clearly still remembering the burn his right hand had left on her arm even though the injury was no doubt already healed and the broken armor replaced. He was about to say something when a familiar dark-skinned figure stepped through the gate to join her. Tactus slunk forward in purple and black Praetorian armor, eyeing the sky apprehensively before beaming a lopsided smile at his old associates.

"Speaking of traitors," Darrow shouted. "Hellow, Tactus. Pretty armor."

"Reaper, Shiro, my goodmen!" Tactus bellowed as he threw them the crux. "Where's Sevro?" Aja straightened and looked around again at the trees as the former Augustan lancer leaned in to tell her something and her men condensed into defensive formation. Tactus had warned them of Darrow's tricks, and they knew that something was awry. The Praetorians' arms glittered as their aegis shields activated. Arcos closed his eyes and lifted his hand into the air, feeling the whipping wind of the brewing storm as he told the Reaper to leave Aja to him.

"No," Darrow replied. "They're all mine. Sevro, Rise." On command, the Howlers emerged from the sea beyond the castle. Water dripped from them as they flew silently over the hundred-meter-high walls, armor glistening like black beetle shells. Freshly painted golden lions winked from each breastplate as lightning flashed and the commandos landed silently around the three men. Twenty new recruits had come from the families of the original Howlers and the ranks of the Telemanus fleet. All Shiro had heard about the tryouts Sevro had held was that it involved snakes, alcohol, and mushrooms. Tactus' voice was all jokes as he mocked Sevro's penchant for ambushes, but the Black Paladin noticed the other lancer look back at the sky anxiously.

As expected, the appearance of the Howlers clearly reassured Aja and Tactus. This made sense to them. Darrow had soldiers hidden, and now he didn't. A battle to the death. Honor. Pride. One force against another. The Obsidians began to keen their bone-chilling war chant. Shiro felt a surge of pity for those people now. All they could hope for in life was a glorious death. To join their relatives in the afterlife with weapons in hand. On Aja's command, the deadliest men and women in the Solar System stepped forward. As soon as Aja stepped clear, Darrow nodded, and Shiro pressed the detonator in his pocket.

Tactus grabbed Aja from behind and jerked her so hard that the lowGrav sent them both tumbling through the door as the first explosion ripped the salt air. The explosions of the landmine spikes Shiro and the Reaper had dropped on the ground as they strolled into the forest were tiered. First came a concussion that disabled pulseShields and scattered the Praetorians into the air. Then came a gravPit, which pulled them back towards the source of the explosion like a vacuum collecting lies. And finally came a burst of pure kinetic energy that destroyed armor, bone, and flesh, blwoing the warriors outward into the air, scattering their pieces in the low gravity like breath scattering dandelion seeds.

Shiro felt sick to his stomach as severed limbs floated gently down and blood beaded and spattered on the forest floor. The explosion broke the roof of the bubble overhead and rain drifted down on the garden to extinguish the fires and thin the blood that was leaking into the two dozen bomb craters. Only three Praetorians survived, but they were in extremely poor shape. Arcos was furious, saying something to Darrow about honor while Sevro hissed for the warlord to give the order to attack. Finally, Darrow snapped his fingers.

"Hunt," the man ordered. The Howlers surged forward into the castle like wolves let off their leashes to finish what the bombs started. They quickly dispatched the surviving Praetorians, and Sevro shouted Tactus' name amid the howling as they tore into the fortress searching for him and Aja. Harpy called on the coms to report that the Protean Knight had escaped like they planned, but that there was no sign of Tactus. But a few minutes later, Sevro reported that Tactus was nowhere to be found. Comprehension dawned on Shiro as the hidden Red asked the Rage Knight what Lune would have Tactus do if she thought he was expendable. He was already running towards the exit when the old man figured it out a second later.

"The children…" Arcos shouted as he pushed passed the Reaper and the Paladin, sprinting through the bombs' carnage to the shattered glass door. "They're going to kill my grandchildren!" The Black Paladin heard Darrow curse as he followed behind. The three men sprinted down the castle's hall. Arcos and Andromedus were slowed down by the low gravity, but Shiro had already taken the lead, using his hands on the walls and ceiling to propel him through turns and gravBoots for speed as they sprinted through the long hallways. When he pressed the stone griffin head to reveal the hidden passage as the Sword of Mars instructed, the smell of blood burned in his nostrils. He pulled himself down a series of stairs with handholds in the ceiling as Darrow pushed past Arcos to catch up. They reached two doors. Each man took one, and Shiro's razor slithered into his hand as he opened the door

"Tactus," Shiro said slowly as he stepped into the room. Darrow quickly followed behind. The man had his back to them, the blood of three dead Obsidians pooling around his shoes as he stood amid the corpses. His razor was coiled in his hand, hardening as he stood with his head lowered in a room full of unarmed women and children. Blood slithered down his blade as the two false Golds took stock of the situation. Arcos had hidden the children here when they arrived – some Gold, some Silver, some Pink and Brown. Tactus could kill half of them with one swing of his razor before the two could even reach him.

"Tactus," Darrow said to the man, looking at the children. "Remember your brothers."

"My brothers are shits," Tactus laughed coarsely, his voice sounding strange. "Said I should get out of your shadow. Mother calls me the Mighty Servant. Did you know that?"

"Lune's orders are wrong," Darrow said to Tactus.

"She asked me if I could fill your place, Reaper," the youngest Rath replied quietly. "Said she didn't think I could. Said I was so long in your shadow that she didn't know if I would ever be more than an echo of you. I told her I could do anything you could do."

"Tactus, she is evil," Shiro interjected, trying to calm the man down.

"Is she?" Tactus retorted as he spat blood on the ground, still with his back to them. "They say the same thing about Darrow here. They wonder who he thinks he is to do what he does. To challenge the people he challenges. They wonder what right he has."

"We all have a right to challenge," Darrow answered. "That's the point."

"The point. Was there a point?" Tactus asked morosely. "I was never told. You took me for granted. Never telling me anything. Always whispering with others. Dismissing me like I'm a fool. You're just like her…"

"Your mother?" Shiro asked, but the Rath brother said nothing. Arcos edged in beside Darrow, who put a hand out to stop him.

"Would you kill them, if Augustus told you to?" Tactus finally asked, turning slightly.

"No," Darrow answered firmly. "I'd rather die."

"So would I," Shiro added.

"I didn't think so," Tactus replied. "She was right. I am the Mighty Servant."

"I don't know what I'm to do now, Tactus," Darrow admitted after a brief moment of hesitation, opening his hands to his old friend.

"That's a first," Tactus laughed bitterly, his voice slurred slightly.  _He's coming down from his high,_ Shiro realized.

"Hardly," Darrow commented. "I didn't know what to do when I whipped you at the Institute. I didn't want to lose you from my army because of your talents. But I couldn't  _not_  punish you."

"Talents, talents, talents…" Tactus commented, his voice thickening further. "Then that's the difference between us. Because if it had been my army, I would have killed your arrogant ass." The man finally turned, and all three men could see hints of the ruin the bomb had made of his face.

"Tactus," Shiro began gently, trying to help talking the lancer down. "You know what happens if you kill any of them." Tactus nodded to him, then to Darrow, then to Arcos, wordless indicating that he knew one of the three would be the one to do him in.

"I'm not sorry I took Lysander, you know," he admitted sadly.

"I don't think you're ever sorry for much," Darrow replied gently.

"Not sorry," Tactus chuckled and dipped a toe in the pool of blood surrounding him. "But I think I shouldn't have done it. I was testing you at the Institute. But… I wanted to see what you'd do. If you were worth following."

"Was I?" Darrow asked.

"You know that answer," Tactus responded.

"Is he still?" Shiro asked, hoping Tactus hadn't been too drunk not to remember their conversation back on Luna the day they first met. Tactus looked at him for a moment to indicate that he did remember before he nodded to Darrow.

"Always, he said, saying the word so pathetically that Shiro had to resist the urge to walk up and hug the man right then and there. Tactus was a traitor, a liar, and a cheat. But in that moment, Shiro only saw a man broken by the expectations of his upbringing, and felt the sudden desire to fix him and make him whole. A quick glance confirmed that Darrow was thinking the same thing. But there was also the complication of their circumstances. Tactus had to be put down, but Shiro had seen from the footage of the Institute how that went with Titus, a student of House Mars who regularly raped his classmates and abused others. That cycle of punishment eroded the unity of their House.  _Death begets death begets death begets death_ , Darrow had said when they discussed those days on the voyage to Europa.

"What if I let you live?" Darrow asked suddenly. Tactus glanced at the Reaper in frantic confusion.  _How fucked up was his childhood that he can't understand the concept of forgiveness,_ Shiro thought sadly, and in that moment, he was suddenly struck by how similar Tactus was to Keith. The Red Paladin had a habit of pushing people away out of fear of being rejected. Tactus' issues may have been different, but at the core, both Keith and Tactus wanted to belong. The Gold just reacted with a hundred times more violence, drugs, and cursing than Keith. Tactus was incredulous as Darrow repeated his offer of forgiveness.

"You're lying," Tactus snapped, turning some more, and giving Shiro a good look at what the bomb did to him. His nose was crooked and broken, and the rest of him looked like a cherry with its skin stripped off. Darrow reassured Tactus that he wasn't lying as he took a step toward his friend.

"I know there's good in you," Darrow reassured him. "I saw your face when those children were killed at the gala. You're not a monster. Come back to me. You would be one of my lieutenants again, Tactus. I would give you a legion to lead when we take Mars. You'll carry one of my standards. But you can't wear that ugly armor."

"It is uncomfortable," Tactus wheezed with a slight smile. "But Sevro, Roque, Victra…"

"They miss you," Darrow replied, although Shiro knew that wasn't necessarily true. The others did miss the days when Tactus had been their friend, but those memories were tinged with the bitterness of betrayal. Their forgiveness would not be given as easily as Darrow's. Shiro didn't know if Tactus would ultimately be able to change for the better, but hearing the earnestness in Darrow's voice as he continued to talk his old friend down, Shiro felt he owed it to the Reaper to try and give Tactus a chance. If Tactus could change for the better, than so could Gold. Finally, Tactus' razor clattered to the floor and he fell to a knee in front of Darrow, rasping from pain. Relief flooded the room and children started crying again from the torturous shift form death to life. Caretakers hugged their charges and cried as well.

Darrow went forward to Tactus and motioned him upward to clasp his arm. Tactus wrapped the other man in a frantic hug and sobbed as he wept into the Reaper's shoulder, apologizing a dozen times as Darrow hugged him. When the sobbing stopped, and the two men parted, Tactus stood at Darrow's side, loyal as a puppy as he looked at his friend subtly for signs of affection. Shiro walked over and gave Tactus a cautious but welcoming smile as he offered the man his hand. Tactus shook it for a moment before giving the Black Paladin a hug as well. Children of all Colors filed upward out of the hidden bunker with their caretakers behind the four men. Pebble came down to tell them that Roque was wrapping up the battle in space and paled when she saw Tactus's wounds before Darrow sent her to fetch a Yellow. When she was gone, Shiro, Tactus, Darrow, and Arcos were alone in the basement.

"Now that the children are gone," Arcos said as he looked over to the three younger men. "Consequences." The old man's hands flashed so fast that Shiro almost didn't see the movement in time. But all that time piloting and bonding with the Black Lion had honed his reflexes enough to lash out and catch the Rage Knight's arm before his ion dagger could bury itself in the weak armor of Tactus' armpit.

"Darrow let him live," Shiro warned coldly. "If you're with us, then respect his decision." Arcos looked furious as Shiro's mechanical arm held the man's unarmored limb in a vice-like grip. The Black Paladin didn't activate his energy weapon, but he let the circuits near his wrist power up as a warning to the old man not to try anything.

"Men do not change," Arcos replied. "He will betray you again and we will all suffer the consequences for it."

"You taught me once, Lorn," Darrow commented. "I'm a better man for it. But now it's my turn to teach you. Men can change. Sometimes they have to fall, and sometimes they have to leap. No one has ever given Tactus the chance to believe he was a good man. I'm giving him that chance, and I accept the consequences if I am wrong. But until that time, he is under my protection and I expect you to respect that. Do you understand?"

"I understand," The Rage Knight answered, and glared angrily at Shiro as the Black Paladin released his arm. His glare softened in confusion as he looked closely at the arm for the first time. Shiro didn't know what about his arm confused the old man, but he put himself between Arcos and Tactus just in case. With no further reason to stay, the Arcos led the Reaper out of the room, Tactus and Shiro flanking Darrow like an honor guard.


	21. Uncomfortable Truths

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 11/16/17: Rewrote to adjust the methods Mustang used to figure out Darrow's secret, borrowing dialogue and descriptions from the early chapters of Golden Son.

#### Shuttle Cabin

#### En Route to Europa

#### February 1st, 741 2841

_“And My son, my son, remember the chains_

_When Gold ruled with iron reigns.”_

_“We roared and roared and twisted and screamed_

_For ours a Vale of better dreams.”_

_“And down in the Vale hear the Reaper swing_

_The Reaper swing,_

_The Reaper swing.”_

_“Down in the Vale hear the Reaper sing a tale of winter done.”_

Mustang’s eyes moistened as she listened to the girl known only as Persephone sing a song of hope that had cost the poor Red her life. She sat curled in a private cabin of the stolen assault shuttle as she fled towards Europa to rendezvous with the _Pax_. Thanks to that backstabbing bastard Pliny, Darrow's plan had failed. The Politico had orchestrated a coup for his own personal gain. Her brother had been arrested. Her aunt was dead, and the children murdered alongside six Praetors. Over twenty of her father's bannermen had sworn new oaths of fealty to Pliny. And the cherry on top was that her family had lost control of the household fleet. She had seen a great deal of death and destruction in the last week. Her forces had been stealthy when they approached the Academy, but as soon as her leechCraft had been launched towards the space station and training ships, the Bellona fleet emerged from behind one of the asteroids.

Every single boarding craft in her flotilla had been destroyed. Ten thousand men. Dead. What disgusted her the most was how merciless and cruel it was. The Bellona had enough guns that her forces couldn't do anything except surrender. In retrospect is was the typical modus operandi of Karnus au Bellona, the man who murdered Claudius. The ambush itself, however, was all Pliny. The only reason he hadn't killed her was because he craved legitimacy. The Pixie kept her under guard in her quarters as he brought the captured fleet to Hildas Station. On the way, he'd come to her and showed her holo footage of her father's failed raid on Ganymede. The ungrateful, greedy worm had told that though her house had fallen to ruin, he did not wish to see her bloodline ended.

So, he had come to an arrangement with the Sovereign. If he could provide her with peace, she would grant him position, legitimacy, and a prize of his choosing. As the ships of House Augustus burned on the hollo, Pliny batted his eyelashes and told Mustang that he would divorce his wife and allow her the honor of taking his hand in marriage. Naturally, she was disgusted by this, and cut out one of his eyeballs in retaliation while she fled. Her brother had been captured helping her escape, leaving her to continue to the rendezvous with Darrow alone. As she made her way closer to regroup with her friends aboard the _Pax_ , she tried to pass the time by thinking about something that had been gnawing at the back of her mind ever since Sevro had arrived on Luna over two months ago.

Something had been bothering her after she'd fabricated Shiro's official backstory. She hadn't been able to put her finger on what exactly it was. It had been nagging her for weeks, but she'd never had the time to properly address what it was, as more important priorities kept being added to her list of things to keep track of. Now that she finally had time to think by herself, she finally realized what it was that had been bothering her: how similar the backstory she'd fabricated for Shiro was to Darrow's own family history. Then another thought occurred to her: Darrow knew the words to the lyrics to the song that the Red girl Persephone had sung, despite having never displayed any deep knowledge of Red culture.

 _No_ , she thought to herself as a possibility occurred to her, but she shook her head at how ridiculous it was. I _t's impossible_. _How would he even survive the carving_? _It's against physiology_. _No one could survive that_. But despite trying to deny the theory, it did make a strange sort of sense. The Sons of Ares had not tried any sabotage like their propagation of the viral videos of Persephone in over three years, sticking mainly to bombings. Mustang had always felt that reforming society from within would be more effective than forcefully tearing it down from the outside. _But what if the Sons of Ares figured that out as well_ , she realized. _They don't trust any Golds to ally with their cause, and the reformers in the Senate are ultimately subservient to the Sovereign. But if the Sons miraculously managed to carve a Red into a Gold and put them through the Institute to become a Peerless Scarred, they would be able to climb the ranks, sow chaos, and eventually make a bid for Sovereign_.

Mustang was pale as it dawned on her that an idea her brain had thrown at her as a joke was starting to make a disturbing sort of sense. _But that doesn't prove that Darrow is their spy_ , she told herself. _Nor does it explain the Sons' increasing reliance on bombings with rampant disregard for civilian casualties_. _Unless of course, the Sons of Ares splintered into different factions – Ares' group working towards their long-term goals, and the extremists in their ranks breaking away to try to bring down the Society with bombs and terrorist attacks_. The more she followed her train of thought, the more her thoughts were leading towards a conclusion that made sense, but that she didn't want to accept. To take her mind off the idea and disprove it, she turned back to the holo and pressed play, listening to the forbidden song once more.

It was a beautiful song, and it always saddened Mustang to know that her people saw it as a challenge to their authority. Her father was perfectly willing to execute a girl who was no older than she was at the time simply for expressing dissatisfaction with her place in life. The recording Mustang watched was not the edited version the Sons of Ares had used in their broadcasts, but the raw footage that she’d secretly downloaded from the Yorkton security databases before she’d left Mars. At the time, she’d simply wanted a recording of the girl’s song without the manipulation of the Sons’ hackers. But now, her search for the source of her undefinable suspicions had prompted her to watch it again in the private cabin of her assault shuttle, a jamField erected to keep the others aboard the ship from overhearing.

As the recording reached the part where Persephone called for a girl named Dio to hear her final words before her execution, Mustang found herself morbidly curious to know what the girl’s last words had been. The young woman she knew only as Persephone had been fearless as she sang, but what did she have to say when her time had finally come. Manipulating the comm equipment in the room, Mustang amplified the sound and filtered out the white noise, so she could here Persephone’s final words, noticing the look of disappointment on the face of the Red boy who’d been whipped alongside the girl who had clearly been his lover. While she'd never seen the young man before in her life, there was something about him that seemed familiar to Mustang as he expressed disappointment that he hadn’t been the one to hear the girl’s last words. She focused her attention back on the two young women standing in the center of the holo.

 _“In our bedroom, there is a crib I made. Hide it before Darrow returns,”_ The Girl whispered frantically, the virtual hologram of a dead girl oblivious to the blood draining from the living woman’s face.

 _“A crib…”_ Dio murmured, as much in shock as Mustang was, but for an entirely different reason.

 _“He must never know,”_ The Girl continued. _“It would break him.”_

 _“Don’t say it, Eo,”_ The hologram of Dio replied desperately. _“Don’t_. _”_

 _“I am with child_. _”_

Eo. Mustang shivered despite the heat of the small ship as her mind recalled where she'd heard that name before. It had been at the Institute, when she'd nursed a would-be Primus of House Mars back to health after Cassius au Bellona had stabbed him and left him for dead. He'd murmured the girl's name in her sleep. The girl he’d loved. The girl her father had executed without a second thought. Her face was as pale as a sheet as all the pieces fell into place. Darrow was a Red. Darrow was a spy for the Sons of Ares. All his actions finally made sense. Why he was so driven to win at the Institute. Why he cast aside their ideals to become one of her father's killers. Why he started the war with the Bellona. Why he continued to expand the scope of the war to create as much chaos as possible.

 _Everything I thought I knew about him is a lie_ , she thought to herself, feeling unsure of herself now that she had realized how thoroughly she'd been wrong. _I thought I knew him, but it was all just a mask_. He was a Red. Her father had killed his wife. _When he sang the song to me in the cave… all this was going through his mind,_ she thought. _This place, the carving, the plan, was all inside him, all in his memory. A whole other world. A whole other… person._ She shook her head, not knowing what to think anymore. _Then what happened?_ She wondered. _Eo’s husband was hanged. Darrow was hanged. How did he escape?_ She forced herself to calm the raging storm until she found the only possible suspect. _The Sons of Ares._

 _They carved him,_ she realized. _But… it’s impossible. The Board of Quality Control has tests, lie detectors, DNA analysis, background checks._ She laughed as the next piece of the puzzle materialized. _That’s why he came from the Family Andromedus. Born to Gold parents who fled debt to try to strike it rich in asteroid mining. Sons of Ares destroyed their ships, altered the records, and purchased the mines so they could write Darrow’s story. How did he even survive the carving? It’s against physiology. What the Carver did to him… no one could survive that. The Sigils are connected to the central nervous system. And the implant in his frontal lobe can’t be removed without rendering him catatonic._ Mustang slumped against the far wall, her head in her hands as she tried to process everything.

She had no proof. Only two conveniently identical names and an elaborate hunch. Yet all her instincts were telling her that her hunch was correct. But given the potential revelations she’d just uncovered, could she really trust her own judgement anymore? Even if she was right, even if Darrow was a Red, she knew what he would be there to do. It wouldn’t just be infiltration. It would end with the fall of the Society. Mustang wasn’t blind. She knew the politics. She knew the conditions his people suffered every day. She and the Reformers believed in a better world, but she didn't want to accept that the only way forward was the sword. She knew her father and brother were cruel titans, but she refused to believe that the only way to improve their civilization required Darrow to kill them. Even if she knew the horrors both had committed, they were still her family.

 _How can Darrow even look at me?_ She wondered as her eyes watered. _My father hanged his wife. He hanger her and her unborn child. Does Darrow want me to help him kill them? Does he want me to help him destroy my people? Why wouldn’t he? After what we’ve done to his people. After what my father did to him._ She unbuttoned the top few catches of her jacket as if it would help her breath through this. Her hands shook as she wondered how she could possibly live with his decision. If she reported Darrow to her father, or the Sovereign, he would die, and billions would live as slaves. But if she didn’t, her better world would be built on the deaths of millions.

 _Not like they aren’t going to die in this war already,_ a small voice in the back of her subconscious pointed out. Once she had gotten her shock under control, she removed all the footage from the computer and purged all evidence she’d ever watched any of the videos. Now that the initial shock had worn off, she was able to retreat to the shuttle’s small cafeteria for a place to think everything through. The fact that the Sons of Ares had gone to so much effort to get Darrow to where he was proved that they were getting more serious about long term plans beyond a few scattered bombings with no clear endgame. If Darrow fell, someone else would rise ten years from now. Or fifty. Or a thousand. The Sons of Ares would topple the hierarchy eventually, no matter the cost.

For all his faults, Darrow clearly cared about the friends he had made at the Institute. About her. If she had him killed, she would have to hope that whoever rose up in his place was not a monster like her father. Like she sometimes worried Darrow would become if he continued his path alone. Mustang was at a loss for what to do. This revelation had shattered not only her perception of Darrow, but her perception of herself. She used to think she was smarter than the others who followed him because she could see the flaws that others would gloss over. Now, she doubted herself. Her intelligence. Her skill. She was rocked to her core and felt that she could no longer trust her own judgement. As she came within sight of the _Pax_ and the ships Darrow had captured over Europa, she realized that there was only one person who could help her with her emotional turmoil. Kavax au Telemanus was the only one whose judgement she trusted as much as her own. Before she talked to Darrow, she would seek Kavax’s counsel first.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -executions in Red Rising are typically done via hanging, but because of the low gravity, you have to pull on a person's feet to break their neck, otherwise they just kick and choke until they stop breathing and their heart gives out. They make the person's loved ones pull the feet both as a cruel "we force you to participate in your loved one's execution", and also as a way for people to say "we love you enough to make sure your death is quick and merciful." Burying dead bodies in the mines is punishable by execution, so the gallows are always full of rotting corpses that nobody dares to remove.
> 
>  **Terminology:**  
>  **-Stormsons:** Europan slang for insanely brave young people who go out boating in the middle of gales and hurricanes.  
>  **-Pixie:** Derogatory term for arrogant Golds who care more about the benefits of their station than doing anything useful with their time. Often used to insult someone by implying that they're not strong enough to do things on their own.


	22. Gathering Storm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1/4/18: Completely re-written to account for my retroactive decision not to kill off Tactus, and to push back Roque and Quinn learning Darrow's secret as a result.

####  _Pax_ medbay

#### Leaving Europa

#### February 1st, 2841

            An hour after they left Europa, Shiro cast a glance outside the viewport, where Darrow’s ships crossed through space. The newest additions to their fledgling armada were painted white and emblazoned with the angry-faced purple griffin of House Arcos. The black, blue, and silver warships captured from Kellan au Bellona were still unpainted as Oranges and Reds crawled over the exteriors, mending the leechCraft-made hull breaches in preparation for the siege of Mars. It would be three days before they reached the rendezvous point at Hildas Station. By then, the rest of the Augustan ships would beat them there. Darrow had gone up to the command deck with Ragnar and the Telemanuses, leaving Shiro in the middle of an awkward standoff between Tactus and the friends he’d betrayed.

            The atmosphere in the medbay was tense as they left Europa. Shiro wasn’t exactly surprised, given how bitter people were over Tactus’ betrayal. Even if Darrow was giving the man a second chance, it would take a while before any of them forgave him. It had taken Darrow threatening to have anyone who tried to kill Tactus thrown out the airlock to stop Victra from gutting the man with her razor right there on the flight deck. Sevro was similarly furious with the decision, only kept in check by his loyalty to the Reaper. The Howlers were divided, but they took their cues from Sevro. Roque said nothing, but the look in his eyes spoke of a betrayal far deeper than a broken friendship. _They must have dated once,_ Shiro realized, unsure of why the thought bothered him more than it probably should have. The Black Paladin stood by Tactus’ bedside, putting himself between the younger man and the rest of the group.

            Tactus’s cheeks were flushed with shame as Yellow physicians slowly removed the burned skin and reapplied new growth structures. The burns on his face were being saved for last, as removing those would require he be sedated. His broken nose had been reset, and the scion of House Rath kept silent as his fellow Golds stood by his bedside arguing over Darrow’s decision. Shiro knew that the criticisms the others levied against Tactus were perfectly valid. The man had cost them their only bargaining chip and almost got them all killed in the process. And that was ignoring all his other transgressions. Making bets on how quickly Darrow would be killed once his contract expired. The murder of his Primus at the Insitute and the attempted rape of one of his classmates. But Shiro knew that Tactus genuinely wanted to be a better person. Victra and the Howlers started taking bets on how long Tactus’ loyalty would last when Shiro’s patience finally ran out.   

            “Enough!” Shiro snapped, cutting through the awkward silence. “Look, I get it. Tactus fucked up. He stabbed us in the back and left us to die. You can talk all you want about how his betrayal was inevitable and you all expected it to happen eventually, but it’s pretty obvious to me that his treachery hurt you on a personal level. Maybe that’s just because I only knew him for a few days, so I don’t have the history with him that you guys did. But it’s clear that everyone’s still feeling raw from his betrayal, and Darrow’s decision to let him back into the fold is just rubbing salt in the wound. We’re all here because of loyalty to the Reaper. It was his decision to give Tactus another chance. You all know Darrow has a history of unconventional tactics, so if you can’t respect his choices, then why are you here?”

            He stormed out of the room without another word, looking back long enough to catch a glimpse of Tactus staring slack-jawed at him with a look of gratitude on his face. Shiro spoke to the guards posted at the door before he left the medbay. Despite their justified anger, the Black Paladin knew none of the others would hurt Tactus. They all respected Darrow too much to go against his wishes. That didn’t mean they wouldn’t be tempted to bend the rules a bit to get some payback. Which was exactly why Darrow had assigned Tactus a squad of bodyguards as a precaution to discourage people from tormenting him in the medbay. They could keep watch over the wounded Gold for a few hours. Shiro was hungry, exhausted, and badly in need of a shower.

             His first stop was his quarters for a shower. While thankfully smaller than his suite in the Citadel on Luna, his officer’s cabin aboard the _Pax_ still had all the luxury of a five-star hotel. As he stood in the shower letting the water wash over his body, his thoughts turned towards whether Tactus really could prove Darrow right and change for the better. On one hand, the man was an arrogant, drug-addicted asshole with a history of violence whose last name carried a reputation of sexual assault. On the other, he'd gone out of his way to be welcoming to Shiro and had spent three days helping the Black Paladin get used to the power structure of the household in between events at the Summit. And given how he’d dropped his guard on both Luna and Europa, Tactus had some very deep seeded insecurities that the Sovereign and his brothers had preyed upon to sway him to their side.

            _He’s a complicated person, that’s for sure,_ Shiro thought to himself as he turned off the water and started to dry off. _He’s kind of got that Zuko-like inner conflict. Who he wants to be is constantly at war with who his family wants him to be, and given how rarely he lets his walls you can never tell how much is nature and how much is nurture._ Tabling his thoughts on Tactus for another time, the time traveler changed into his pajamas and crawled into bed. They'd arrived on Europa just before midnight, so he hadn't gotten any sleep in the last twenty-four hours. With all the work that would need to be done over the next three weeks before they invaded Mars, he was going to need to get all the sleep he could get while he still could.

            By the time he woke up, it was around dinnertime going by the ship's clocks, and Shiro’s stomach was roaring like the miniature Lion in the ArchGovernor’s office aboard the Augustan flagship, _Invictus_. Groaning, Shiro changed into his clothes and set off for the lowColor galley, wanting to avoid talking to any of the Golds before he’d had a chance to get some food. Since their mutual secret-sharing conversation almost a fortnight ago, Darrow and Sevro had spent the trip to Europa pumping him dry for information about life on Earth before the hierarchy. They discussed everything, covering topics ranging from his favorite science fiction movies and his time as a Paladin of Voltron to classic literature and Sevro’s inexplicable fondness for the music of Taylor swift.

            He was surprised when he walked into the lowColor galley to see that there was a Gold already there. He’d eaten there by himself often enough that the lowColors were used to his presence by now, even if they still found his decision to dine among those ostensibly lesser than himself odd. So, when he entered the room and found a single golden head sitting in the corner with their back to the door, separated from the ship’s crewmembers by a wide ring of empty tables, he couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow in both suspicion and curiosity. _Too tall to be Sevro,_ he thought to himself as he went up to the kitchen to ask the cook for a larger portion. _And too short to be Darrow. Other than those two, I can’t think of any reason the others would ever come down here._

            Deciding that there was only one way to find out who it was, he placed his order and headed over to the table and slid into the empty seat. He bit his lip to keep himself from gaping in surprise to see Tactus, both that he’d been discharged from the med bay less than a day after being admitted, and the fact that he’d come down here, of all places. The young man had a bottle of alcohol on one side – the cheap kind only Reds could afford, rather than the usual fine wine preferred by Golds – and a jar of burn relief medicine on the other. Tactus dipped his hand into the jar and winced as he applied the lotion to his face. The ship’s doctors had evidently replaced the burnt skin on his face at some point after Shiro left, leaving patches of discoloration on his dark skin as the new skin grafts healed.

            “You’re up and about sooner than I expected you to be,” Shiro admitted, deciding that would be the least intrusive way to start the conversation. “I thought the Yellows would’ve let your new skin heal a bit before they let you leave the medbay.” Tactus jerked up as he spoke, so absorbed in his task that he hadn’t even noticed the time traveler sit down. When he realized who had spoken, the man visibly relaxed.

            “They cleared me enough to leave,” Tactus replied. “I didn’t really feel like staying where everyone knew where I was, so I went to the one place nobody would ever expect to find me. What brings you down here? I doubt you came looking for me.”

            “Just woke up,” Shiro answered. “I was going to see how you were doing after I fed myself, but it looks like you already beat me to the punch on that one.”

            “Why though?” Tactus wondered. The Black Paladin shrugged.

            “With how upset everyone was about you leaving I doubted they’d have done anything for you,” he said. Seeing that Tactus still looked confused, he continued. “Darrow thinks that despite everything, you deserve a second chance. You were the one who introduced me to everyone and helped ingratiate me to the rest of the group. With you being on thin ice with everyone right now, I thought I’d return the favor.” Of course, Shiro would still have done it anyway. It was just the right thing to do. But considering how basic concepts like forgiveness and redemption seemed completely foreign to Tactus, it was probably better to couch it in terms that the Gold would understand. For a few minutes, the two of them sat there silently as Shiro finished his food. Shiro wanted to talk to Tactus about what had happened, but he was waiting for the other man to start the conversation first.

            “I didn’t do it for the glory,” Tactus finally admitted. Shiro didn’t interrupt to ask what “it” referred to. They both knew there was only one thing the younger man could be talking about. “It wasn’t as though I’d have gotten any glory from it. Just scorn for being a rat faced bastard. Only reason I’m still alive is because mother vouched for me to the Sovereign. I just wanted to get away from everyone. They’d tie me down and tame the feral beast my parents taught me to be. I’d be stripped of the cruelty I’ve built up to survive. They were draining all my power, and the worst part was that I liked it.” For once, Shiro was reasonably certain that Tactus wasn’t drunk yet. _In fact,_ he thought as he looked at the beer bottle to find that it remained unopened, _I’d say the last twenty-four hours are probably the first time outside the escape from Luna where I’ve ever seen him sober. I guess the really did just want someone to listen to him without judging him._

            “Tactus,” he began. “Your friends care about you. Otherwise your leaving wouldn’t have hurt so much. They try to get you to abandon all that cruelty you’ve ingrained into yourself because they know that’s not who you really are on the inside. Despite the cruelty, Darrow and Roque saw how much more you could be without it. If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that family is more than the people you’re related to by blood. Your family is the people who support you, not the ones who try to tear you down. Not everyone is like your mother or your brothers, Tactus. And just because those assholes are biologically related to you doesn’t make them family.”

            “That’s probably one of the kindest things anyone but Darrow has ever said to me,” Tactus replied. He turned his head to hide his face, but Shiro caught the brief glimmer of moisture in the other man’s eyes. “But that’s what scares me. I was never built for kindness, so even if I cast aside my armor, I’m gorydamn terrified that I’ve had it so long I can’t remember who I am without it.” Shiro pushed aside his plate and set his hand on Tactus’ shoulder. The man turned his head back at the gesture, revealing the tears welling up in his eyes.  

            “Well,” Shiro commented. “One of the things I learned when I was growing up was that life is a journey to find out who we are outside of our parents’ shadows. It’s perfectly natural to feel like you don’t know who you are without this one thing in your life. I’ve seen people go through that inner conflict multiple times over the course of their lives. That’s why we surround ourselves with people who will support us while we figure it out.” For a while, they just sat there in silence. Neither of them sure what to say or do after that. Before either of them could break the tension, Shiro’s datapad vibrated on his left arm with an incoming message. Shiro glanced down and pulled up his inbox to find a priority alert from Darrow.

“Mustang's back,” he said as he brought his head back up to look at Tactus. “Darrow wants us to join them in the hangar.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Credit to [Bad Seed](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12883347) by [YouLookGoodInLeather](http://archiveofourown.org/users/YouLookGoodInLeather/pseuds/YouLookGoodInLeather), an excellent character study of Tactus that really helped me get inside his head to plan out his dialogue in this chapter (I borrowed two or three really good lines)
> 
>  **Terminology:**  
>  **-dataSlip:** SD cards for datapads.


	23. Die Young

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1/5/18: Reworked to flesh out Mustang's conversations and backstory, and to account for changes to the plot.

####  _Pax_ Officers’ Quarters

#### Leaving Europa

#### February 1st, 2841

After her stolen assault shuttle landed in the hangar bay of the _Pax_ , Mustang explained to Darrow and the others what had happened during Pliny's betrayal. While Sevro went to summon the Telemanuses for a war meeting to plan their next move, Theodora, Darrow's Pink valet, left to arrange for food and refreshments to be sent to the war room before returning to her own quarters for some rest. Mustang normally kept her emotions guarded like Golds were expected to, but between figuring out the truth about Darrow, her emotional armor was cracked. While Darrow and Roque discussed why the latter had been ordered to let Aja escape during the battle over Europa, Mustang left the medBay and headed towards her quarters. She had ten minutes before the strategy meeting and she wanted to seek Kavax's advice and resolve her inner turmoil before the meeting began.

When Sevro had been dispatched to summon the Telemanuses, she'd told him to pass along a message to Kavax, asking him to meet her at her stateroom before the meeting. When she arrived in her room, she turned on her dataPad and pulled up all her research. With everything set up, she sat down on the bed to wait. A minute later, as a heavy, thundering knock sounded from the door that was too loud to come from anyone but a Telemanus. Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she opened the door to find Kavax and Daxo waiting outside in the hallway. She quickly ushered them inside and turned on a jamField. Both men quirked their brows in confusion as they noticed the familiar _pop_ of the jamField activating. Once she was certain they were alone, she turned back to the two Telemanuses and brought up her datapad.

“What’s wrong, Virginia?” Daxo asked cautiously, unsure of what was going on. “You look troubled.” Mustang couldn't help but offer a sad smile at his concern. The Telemanuses had always been more caring than her family was. While she still cared for her father and brother in the way that one instinctively cared about their blood relatives, she still remembered when her father had let her baby sister die in the womb because of his cruel Darwinist philosophy that he didn't even practice when it came to his own son. She and Adrius used to be inseparable before their mother died, but afterwards he became distant and cold. The only member of her biological family she'd ever had a unanimously positive relationship with had been Claudius. Her elder brother had always been there for her, helping with her studies, taking her on trips to see the world, and generally helping her have a chance to be more than the daughter of the ArchGovernor for a while.

But then Karnus au Bellona had murdered him, and her family had never been the same. She and Adrius had been split up for protection against assassination attempts, and she’d been fostered out to the Telemanuses. Truthfully, she felt that her father just couldn't bear the sight of his remaining children after the death of the one he considered the perfect son. In any case, she reflected, it had been for the best. The Telemanus family had helped her come to terms with her brother's death and fill the void he'd left behind with love and laughter. Pax and Daxo had been like brothers to her. Thraxa was like the older sister she’d never had, and Kavax had been the kind of father she wished her own had been. While she wished Claudius had still lived, she ultimately wouldn't want to change her childhood with the Telemanus clan. She finally finished gathering her thoughts and looked up to face her surrogate family.

“There's something I discovered while I was on my way here,” she began. “Something had been bothering me ever since I crafted Takashi’s false credentials, but I couldn’t put my finger on it, but today, I finally put the pieces together.” With a trembling hand, she brought up a backup of the video file from her data pad and pressed play. Kavax and Daxo watched the hanging in silence. Their jaws dropped when they heard Eo say Darrow’s name. Their eyes darted towards her, silently asking if this mean what they thought it meant. She held up a finger, signaling for them to wait until the video was finished. Once Eo’s last words left her long dead lips, Mustang closed the video and erased it from her datapad completely.

“Darrow is a Red,” she finally said. As the words left her mouth, it occurred to her just how different Kavax was from her own father. If she shared this with him, he would have executed Darrow in a heartbeat, her own thoughts and turmoil be damned. But Kavax, for all his boisterousness in battle, knew that there were times when one needed to stop and think. It was part of why she had always looked up to him more than her father, and it was also why she loved him like one as well. Ever since she was a little girl, she had always sought his counsel by the fireplace in his estate. Now, she waited to hear his advice. The towering Telemanus patriarch was silent for a long moment as he considered what to say considering this revelation.

“Virginia,” he finally began, voice soft and comforting. “We have always known our hierarchy is needlessly cruel to maintain the luxury Gold enjoys. The rise of groups like the Sons of Ares was inevitable. We all know this. So,” while it’s certainly a surprise to see them attempt such a bold move as to carve a Red into a Gold to infiltrate the ruling class and bring the hierarchy down from within, it is not particularly in expected that they would take such a desperate gamble. In fact, considering this news, Darrow’s sometimes contradictory behavior begins to make sense. He left for the Academy “to become one of your father’s killers” as you once put it, because he believed that to be the quickest way to climb the pyramid and put himself in a better position for when it was finally time to strike, and he distanced himself from you because he fears getting you caught in the crossfire of his crusade”

“But he’ll destroy my family,” Virginia protested. “My father hanged his wife. He hanged her. How can he even look at me? Does he want me to help him destroy my people?”

“I doubt genocide is what he or the Sons wanted,” Daxo interjected.

“After what we’ve done to his people, after what my father did to him, how can they not?” Her hands shook while she unbuttoned the top two catches on her jacket, as it would help her breath through this. “How can I live with this? If I don’t report him, millions will die.”

“And if you do, you accept that billions should live as slaves,” Kavax commented. “If it is not Darrow, someone else will rise. Ten years from now. Fifty. A thousand. The downfall of the hierarchy is inevitable, no matter how much it costs the lowColors to achieve victory. All we could do is pray that someone worse would not rise in Darrrow’s place. We both know that your father is a cruel man, Virginia. You once said that if you could be something else than a titan like him, you would be. Now is the chance to prove it. Yes, there is a high chance of your father and brother being killed in the chaos. War is inherently messy and unpredictable. But at least with you on board you can try to ensure that they are taken alive.”

“And I know that Darrow doesn’t want genocide because if that was what either of they wanted, the Sons of Ares wouldn’t have gone to the trouble of carving him in the first place,” Daxo commented. “In fact, the increasing violence of the Sons’ attacks suggests the Sons are divided over their long-term goals. It’s likely that the agents responsible for Darrow’s carving have gone to ground until the time is right, while the extremists who opposed the infiltration plan have continued to commit acts of terrorism in Ares’ name.” Mustang blinked. That… made sense. It would certainly explain the Sons’s expansion beyond Mars in the last two years.

“You’re right, Kavax,” Mustang admitted. “But I don't want to accept that the only way forward is the sword. I always believed that the reformers in the senate would be able to gradually reconfigure the system into one that was fairer to the lowColors. I refuse to believe that violence is the only solution.”

“You're right,” Daxo admitted, a wry smile on his face as his eyebrow crept towards the angel tattoos on his scalp. “It's not the only solution. But we all know that Gold is too stubborn and secure in their power to voluntarily change from within. There will be a time for diplomacy and reform eventually. But as much as you may hate it, the time of violent uprising must come first. That's why you and Darrow make such a good team. He is the iron fist, breaking conventions and tearing things down from the outside, and you are the velvet glove, gently bringing others around to your way of thinking.” Mustang couldn't help but smile at the comparison. But there was one last thing she needed to hear before she could be satisfied with her decision.

“But he was never one of us,” she said. She knew it didn't matter, but it was the only thing she could think to say. “If they learn what he is, Gold will never trust him no matter what he looks like.” The two Telemanus men were silent for several seconds. Suddenly, the room shook with Kavax’s booming laughter.

“Virginia,” he answered warmly. “You should know by now that there is more to a person that blood relation. It does not matter that he was not born a Gold. Pax made him one of us. You make him one of us. And if we damn all that, I say he's one of us. So, one of us he is.” Daxo gave his surrogate sister a hug as she broke down in tears at Kavax's seemingly boundless ability to move people just by showing them kindness and compassion. Compared to the elder Telemanus’s limitless humanity, her father’s stoic pragmatism seemed downright cruel. She’d been thinking the same thought herself, but after having her confidence in her choices shaken by the discover of Darrow’s secret, she needed to hear it from Kavax before she made her final choice.

“Thank you, Kavax,” she replied, feeling relieved as she felt the storm of emotions within her finally subside. “You and Daxo always manage to know exactly what I need to hear to help me.” The two Telemanuses brought her in for a group hug, and as they sat there on her bed, it occurred to Mustang that the Telemanuses had been more of a family to her than her own had been.

“Any time, Virginia,” the younger Telemanus remarked. “Regardless of blood relation, you are family. Now, I do believe we all have a war meeting to attend.” Mustang laughed as she and the Telemanuses finally untangled from the group hug. With an exhausted sigh, she deactivated the jamField and lead the way as the three of them headed down the corridors of the ship to the war room. While their conversation was brief, everyone else had already arrived ahead of them. Shiro and Darrow both gave her concerned looks as she, Daxo, and Kavax walked into the room. She just flashed both men a reassuring smile as she took her seat at the table. Now that she'd gotten her indecision out of the way, it was time for the strategy meeting to begin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The iron fist and velvet glove bit is a reference to the Game of Thrones AU fanfic And The Giant Awoke, when Tywin Lannister is describing his and Olenna Tyrell's role in keeping order in Westeros. I thought it fit with Darrow and Mustang's dynamic when it comes to strategies.


	24. A Dance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1/6/18: No re-writes. I didn't have anything to change from this chapter.

####  _Pax_ Praetor's Stateroom

#### En Route to the Asteroid Belt

#### February 1st, 2841

A few hours after the war meeting, Darrow suppressed a brief yawn as he followed Mustang down the halls of his stateroom, lights coming to muted life as they walked past along the marble floor of his suite. He'd been dreaming of his late wife, Eo. Of lying down in bed together and simply being with her. After being woken from his slumber, he'd brought up the door's security feeds, displaying a holo of Mustang standing in the hall. He'd instinctively risen to let her in, but paused when he reached the door. The plan had already been decided on, and there was nothing left to discuss at this hour. After a brief minute of indecision, he'd let her in. Ordering the stubbornly loyal Ragnar to get some sleep, he and Mustang had a meandering conversation about thinks such as their tastes in music, her father's paranoia about robots, and what alien civilizations like the Atleans, the Olkari, and the Galra would think of humanity's empire.

Darrow couldn't help but laugh at the mental image of the great ArchGovernor Augustus having nightmares about robot uprisings. And he was constantly amazed at Shiro's many stories of his adventures as a Paladin of Voltron. As they talked, Mustang walked around, exploring the six large rooms of what had once been the Ash Lord's private quarters. Eventually, she'd found a training room, and slipped ahead faster than Darrow cared to follow. Now, he found her moments later standing in the center of the circular training room. The white sparring mat was soft under his feet, and carvings lined the room's wooden walls.

"The House of Grimmus is an old one," Mustang commented as she pointed to an old frieze of a man in armor. "You can see the Ash Lord's first ancestor there. Seneca au Grimmus, the first Gold to touch land in the Iron Rain that took the American eastern seaboard after one of Cassius's ancestors, forget his name, broke through the Atlantic Fleet. Then there is Vitalia au Grimmus, the Great Witch, right there." She turned back to him. "Do you even know the history of the things you try to break?"

"It was Scipio au Bellona who defeated the Atlantic Fleet," Darrow remarked.  _I'll never understand why she does this,_ he thought to himself.  _Pretends she doesn't know something that every Gold is expected to know just to make sure that people are paying attention to her when she talks._

"Was it?" Mustang asked, managing make her feigned ignorance appear completely genuine. Fortunately for Darrow, he knew her well enough to see through the masks she wore.

"I studied the history," he answered. "Just as well as you." He grinned when she gave him a smirk of satisfaction.

"But you stand apart from it, don't you?" she asked. "You always have. Like you're an outsider looking in. It was growing up away from all this in your family's mine that did the trick, wasn't it? That's why you can ask a question like 'What would aliens think of us?'" Hearing her talk about the fake mines of his backstory sent a jab of homesickness through his heart. It had only been four years since he was just a Helldiver, a lowly Red living under the surface of Mars. Four years since he had seen his family. Four years since Eo had died.

"You're just as much an outsider as I am," he retorted, trying to deflect the conversation away from himself. He could tell from the look on her face that she deliberately brought up the asteroid mines of House Andromedus to gauge his reaction, probing his face to see what he was thinking. "I've read your dissertations."

"You have?" she asked, feigning surprise. She knew he read the papers she'd written during her time on Luna, and she knew he knew she knew.

"Believe it or not, I can read too," Darrow joked as he shook his head. "It's like everyone forgets I only missed one question on the Institute's slangsmarts test."

"Ew," she replied teasingly. "You missed a question?" She wrinkled her nose mirthfully as she picked up a practice razor from a nearby bench. "I suppose that's why you weren't in Minerva."

"How did Pax manage to get picked by House Minverva, by the way?" Darrow asked. "I've always wondered… He wasn't exactly a scholar."

"How did Roque end up in Mars?" she replied with a shrug. "Each of us have hidden depths. Now, Pax wasn't as bright as Daxo is, but wisdom is found in the heart, not the head. Pax taught me that." She paused as she smiled distantly. "The one grace my father gave me after my mother died was letting me visit the Telemanus estate. He kept Adrius and me apart to make assassination of his heirs more difficult. I was lucky to be near them. Though if I hadn't been, maybe Pax wouldn't have been quite so loyal. Maybe be wouldn't have asked to be in Minerva. Maybe he'd be alive. Sorry…" She shook her head to push away the sadness before looking back to Darrow with a tight smile.

"What did you think of my dissertations?" she asked, clearly curious to finally find out what he thought of her work.

"Which one?" Darrow inquired.

"Surprise me," she answered.  _Alright then,_ he thought.  _I guess I should go with my favorite then._

"The Insects of Specialization," he said. A snap rang out as a practice razor slapped into his arm, stinging the flesh. "What the hell?" He yelped in surprise.

"I was making sure you were paying attention," Mustang remarked as she stood there, looking innocent as she swished the practice blade back and forth.

"Paying attention?" Darrow exclaimed. "I was answering your question!"

"Alright," she replied with a shrug before lashing at him again. "Perhaps I just wanted to hit you."

"Why?" Darrow asked as he dodged.

"No reason in particular," Mustang commented. She swung again, and he dodged. "But they say even a fool learns something once it hits him."

"Don't quote – " he began before he twisted aside from another slash. "Homer… to me."

"Why is that dissertation your favorite?" she asked cooly as she swung at him again. Practice razors had no edge, but they were as hard as wooden canes. Darrow left his feet, twisting sideways out of the way like a Lykos tumbler.

"Because…" he tried to answer as he dodged another strike."  _Goryhell,_ he thought.  _What is she trying to do?_

"When you're on your heels, you're a liar," Mustang remarked. "On your toes, you spit truth." She paused as she swung at him again. "Now spit." She smacked his kneecap, and he rolled away, trying to reach the other practice razors. But she kept him from the weapons rack with a flurry of swinging. "Spit!" she urged again.

"I liked it – " Darrow began as he jumped backwards. "Because you said 'Specialization makes us limited, simple insects; a fact…" he paused to dodge. "From…" He dodged again. "which even Gold is not immune." At this, Mustang stopped attacking and stared at him accusatorially. Almost immediately Darrow realized he'd fallen into a trap.

"If you agree with that, then why do you insist on making yourself only a warrior?" she asked.

"Its what I am," Darrow replied.

"It's what you are?" she asked rhetorically with a laugh. "You, who trust Victra. A Julii. You, who trusted Tactus. You, who let an Orange give strategic recommendations. You, who gives command of your ship to a Docker and keeps an entourage of Bronzies?" She paused as she wagged a finger at him. "Don't be a hypocrite, now, Darrow au Andromedus. If you're going to tell everyone else they can choose their destiny, then you damn well better do the same." A look of sadness pasted itself on Darrow's face. He knew that Mustang was too smart to lie to. It's why he was always so ill at ease when she started asking him questions and probing things he couldn't explain. If he were really a Gold, there would be no explainable motivation for most of his actions.

"That look," she commented as she took a step back. "Where do you go when you look at me like that?" The color slipped from her face as her smile slackened. "Is it Victra?"

"Victra?" he asked, almost laughing. "No."

"Then her," Mustang said. "The girl you lost. Eo." Darrow remained silent. She'd never pried before. But he'd been stupid to think that she would ever forget that he'd whispered the name of another girl as he laid in the snow of the Institute with her. How could it not linger there inside her, forcing her to wonder, as she lay with her head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat, if it didn't belong to another girl, a dead girl.

"Silence isn't the answer right now, Darrow. I already know what you are but I need to hear the truth from you," she said sadly before she left him alone in the training room. Darrow frowned in confusion as he wondered what she meant. The sound of her feet faded and the Mozart she'd turned on when she came in disappeared. Acting quickly, Darrow chased after her, reaching her before she found the door to the main hall. He grabbed her wrist, but she shook him off.

"I know why you do this," she said. "Why you try to pull me back even as you push me away." She balled her fist. "But if I'm willing to turn my back on everything I was taught for you, the least you can do is be honest with me."

"What did you mean when you said you know what I really am?" Darrow inquired, confused as she reached into her pocket and the pop of a jamField activating sounded in his ears.

"You know what I mean," she replied. After a moment, her frown softened into a sad smile. "Even before the carving you were still beautiful." The color drained from Darrow's face as it finally hit him what she was getting at.  _She knows,_ he thought to himself, terrified out of his mind about what she might do next.

"How long have you known?" he asked, tears welling up in his eyes as he fought to keep himself from breaking down.

"The puzzle pieces had been burrowing in the back of my mind ever since I forged Shiro's credentials," she answered. "I didn't manage to put the pieces together until I was on my way back from Pliny's ambush. At first I was rattled, and angry about being deceived. But after I had some time to think about everything, I can understand why you've been so evasive and contradictory. It can't have been easy having to protect your secret. And I want you to know that this doesn't change a thing. No matter what Color you are, I am still here. You won't have to walk this path alone. Even if it means severing all ties with my father, I am not leaving your side."

Finally, Darrow couldn't take it anymore and broke down in tears, burying his face in Mustang's soft golden hair as a gargantuan weight was finally lifted from his chest. Between Sevro, Roque, and Quinn, the loyalty his friends had towards him had shattered all his fears and expectations about how they would react when they finally learned the truth. When he had first begun his education at The Institute, he had been expecting to lie to everyone around him to further the Sons of Ares' goals, and for them all to turn on him when the truth came out. He had never expected to fall in love with the daughter of the man who'd killed his wife. He'd never expected to care about the friends he was supposed to manipulate. He hadn't expected almost every one of them to choose him over their own culture.

"I never expected to care," Darrow managed to say once the tears finally stopped flowing. "I was convinced that every Gold was raised to be as cold as your father, and that no Gold would ever be willing to change. But then you showed me how wrong I was." With the barrier of his secrets stripped away, Darrow decided that it would be better to tell Mustang how he felt with actions, rather than words. So he disentangled his face from her hair, gently nudged her chin upwards with his finger, and gave her a gentle but emotional kiss that said everything that needed to be said. As he pulled away, Mustang kissed him back, and together they headed back to the bedroom.

They didn't have sex together, since Mustang didn't want to sit out from the upcoming battle to take back Mars if he'd accidentally gotten her pregnant. They nevertheless spent the night in Darrow's bed together, talking well into the early hours of the morning about Darrow's real origins. He told her stories about his time as a Helldiver in the mines. About his father's death, and how his Uncle Narol had faked his death against his will and delivered him to the Sons of Ares. He confided in Mustang about how uncertain he had been after two years without contact from them, only for Harmony's splinter faction to try to manipulate him into bombing the gala with the revelation that Eo had been pregnant when she died. He talked about growing up beneath the surface, ignorant of the political power plays of The Society. But as Darrow finally drifted off to sleep, he couldn't help but feel a surge of contentment. No matter what the future held, he had friends willing to fight beside him. After two years stumbling around in the dark with no contact from the Sons of Ares, he wasn't alone anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Terminology:**  
>  **-Bronzie:** Derogatory term for Golds who are seen as genetically inferior


	25. Who You Really Are

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1/7/18: Completely reworked this chapter to skip over Darrow telling the group and have everyone's reactions in a single chapter.

####  _Pax_ Mess Hall

#### En route to the Asteroid Belt

#### February 2nd, 2841

"I understand if you don't wish to stay on the  _Pax_ knowing the truth," Darrow said solemnly as he turned to leave. "So, if my secret is not something you can conscience, tell me, and I will give you an un-armed ship and enough provision to last you to Io. The choice is yours" With that dramatic pronouncement, the Reaper of Mars walked out of the room.  _Well that was one way to get their attention,_ Shiro observed silently from underneath his ghostCloak. Now that Mustang had figured out Darrow's secret, the Reaper had decided that it was time to bring everyone else into the fold as well. Sevro was busy doing initiations with the Howlers, so Darrow had gathered Tactus, Roque, Victra, and Quinn in the dreadnaught's highColor galley and revealed his secret.

Now, Shiro's job was to watch and see what everyone chose. Darrow hadn't sworn any of the four Golds to silence. He didn't demand an answer, as none had been demanded from him when the Sons had first recruited him. Darrow had to make the choice for himself. If he had been forced into service, he had told Shiro, he'd have given up a thousand times over.  _Slaves do not have the bravery of free men;_ the Reaper had said.  _That is why Golds lie to lowReds to make them think they are brave. That is why they lie to Obsidians and make them think it is an honor to serve gods. Easier than the truth. Yet it takes only one truth to bring a kingdom of lies crashing down._ As a people built on family and love amid the horror of their world, Darrow and Shiro both knew that while Red would be the ones to lead the rebellion, Red alone would not be enough.

So now Shiro watched, and he waited. Darrow didn't swear anyone to silence or demand answers from them, but the man wasn't stupid. Shiro had volunteered to watch and see how everyone reacted, to gauge which of the four would be likely to stay with Darrow, and which ones intended to jump ship at the first chance they got. He kept his ghostCloak on to avoid detection as he sat in the corner of the room. For several minutes, the quartet sat in stunned silence, oblivious to the cloaked fly on the wall. About five minutes after Darrow left the room, Victra downed her glass of Venusian wine in a single gulp before she finally broke the silence.

"Is anyone else planning on sticking around or all you all going to jump ship?" she asked. Roque turned to look at her in shock, while Tactus and Quinn looked more pensive.

"Did you even hear a word of what he just confessed?" he snapped. "He's Red, we're Gold. He deceived us all. Why am I the only one getting angry?"

"We all enter a certain social contract by living in this Society of ours," Victra replied as she moved to pour herself another glass, only to change her mind and knock her head back to drink the rest of the wine straight out of the bottle. "Our people oppress his tiny kind. We live off the spoils of their labor. Pretending they don't exist. And they fight back. Usually very poorly. Personally, I think that's his right. It's not good or evil. But it's fair. I'd applaud a mouse that managed to kill an eagle, wouldn't you? Good for it. It'd be absurd and hypocritical for us to complain now simply because the Reds finally started fighting well." She laughed sharply at the look of surprise on the others' faces. "What, darlings? Did you expect me to piss on about honor and betrayal like that walking wound, Cassius?"

"But he lied to us," Roque protested. "Every moment he spent in our company was part of a prolonged deception. How can knowing what he is not bother you?"

"Why would I care what he was?" Victra retorted. "I care about what people do. I care about truth. I don't intend to do a single thing differently just because he wasn't raised as a Gold. The only thing I'd like to know is why he decided to tell us at all."

"I agree with Victra," Quinn interjected as she turned so she was facing towards her lover. "Roque, you heard what Darrow said about Luna. The Sons wanted him to bomb the Gala, but even if he couldn't go through with it, he tried to save your life."

"We were always taught to be loyal to Color, and to family," Tactus said slowly. "So, what does it say about Gold when I get more kindness from a Red than my own gorydamn mother? I told him on Europa that I always thought he was worth following, and you know what? This doesn't change a thing. I came back because of Darrow, and I'm not leaving until someone boots me out an airlock themselves."

"I can't believe I'm saying this," Victra commented. "But for once, I agree with Tactus. Much as you all consider Mustang a friend, none of us could give a gorydamn piss about her father. When the Sovereign decided to have the ArchGovernor assassinated, we didn't stay because we gave a damn about Augustus. We stayed for the Reaper. If the fact that he wasn't a Gold is suddenly a deal breaker to you, well, we all heard his offer." Shiro felt a surge of pride at the woman's words. It was a relief to see that Darrow's faith in his friends had not been misplaced. From the sound of their conversation, Tactus and Victra were still in. The other two was still on the fence, but Quinn sounded like she planned to say as well. That left Roque as the only one undecided.

"We have a duty to Gold," he said, voice trembling. "Look at all the lives that have been lost because of Darrow's ruse. He desires nothing but the destruction of our people…"

"Roque," Quinn interrupted. "If Darrow wanted genocide against Gold, he'd have blown himself up at the Gala like that woman Harmony wanted him to. He wouldn't have gone to the effort of sparing your life. Stop pretending this has anything to do with duty. You've read Mustang's dissertations. We've all seen the Society's excesses. None of our parents will give a damn if we die, and no matter what we do the media will play politics with our deaths. So, what is it that's rattling you? Why are you so adamant on defending a system that won't even bother mourning you?" Despite her gentle tone, Quinn's words clearly struck Roque deeply. For a moment, the poet was silent before he finally spoke up.

"I didn't have many friends before the Institute," he began his voice becoming more morose as the words left his mouth. The sudden change in tone made it clear to everyone present that this was a very emotional subject for him. "My mother kept me sequestered away like most Gold children did, but she had me tutored by Violets and Whites, learning the natural way rather than with technology and digital uploads. I started reading poetry at a young age. I liked reciting poems aloud because I loved the way the words fit together perfectly, but nobody ever really appreciated that. My mother never had time and didn't understand why I enjoyed reciting poems even when she did have time, and my tutors just praised me regardless. None of them understood why I enjoyed poetry so much. But then, when I was fifteen, I'd been reading a book of old poems in English one day and finished to find that one of the family servants had been listening. He was a highRed, my age. I'd been irritated at being interrupted, but when he reluctantly admitted he'd enjoyed listening to the poetry like I did, it was like something clicked. Finally, after years of searching, I'd found someone who understood my love of poetry."

"It became a regular thing for the two of us after that," Roque went on. "I'd read poems, either from books or ones I'd written myself, and Altan would listen. He was still a servant, so he was reluctant to be critical at first, but over time he started giving me feedback on things I could do to improve my writing and speaking. As the weeks passed, our poetry reading became less frequent, and we simply spent our time together eating and talking about everything from our lives and cultures to my latest studies. I'd share what I was learning with my tutors, and Altan would teach me Red songs." Roque paused, clearly bracing himself for the next part of the story. Shiro had a pretty good guess as to where this was going, however.

"A few months later," the poet continued. "Our friendship blossomed into something more. We'd been sitting in our hidden nook where we'd hide from the servants. Altan had started reading poetry himself, and after he'd finished reciting one he'd made himself, I kissed him on the cheek as I congratulated him. He blushed, so I apologized, not wanting to ruin our friendship. But, to my surprise, he kissed me back, only he kissed me on the lips. From there, our romance deepened, and I'd start finding ways to smuggle him out of the estate, so we could go to the opera or to other events together. Altan may not have had the same rigorous education I'd gotten, he'd been a fast learn, quick witted, and unafraid to speak his mind when he felt he could do so with impunity. That was what I loved about him."

"But then our love affair came to a screeching halt on my seventeenth birthday," Roque added sadly. "My mother was supposed to be away on Luna for Senate meetings, and not be back for at least a month. Father was spending a few days travelling to our other homes, leaving me with free reign of the family estate. So Altan and I sequestered myself in my private quarters, locked the doors, covered the windows, and set up a jamField so nobody could hear us while we made love to one another. But Mother returned home early, and her screams when she overrode the locks and found me making love to a Red made her look like one of the Banshees of myth. She contacted the Board of Quality Control and dragged him to the shuttle herself. He was crying as they took him away, and I never saw him again." Quinn put a hand on Roque's shoulder to give him support, as it was clear to everyone that the tale still wasn't done.

"Mother beat me until my face bled for disgracing the family by allowing a slave to bed me. The next day, she told me that Altan had tried to save himself by claiming I had coerced him into the relationship. Not that it would have made a difference. The Board of Quality Control had him gassed for sleeping with a Gold and cremated his remains. I knew she was lying, but it broke my heard just the same. Because even if our attraction had been mutual, it was all my fault. If I'd never interacted with him, there would have been nothing to keep secret, nothing to regret. And Altan would still be alive. Going against the hierarchy only brought me pain in the end, so I buried my guilt and self-loathing, and became the perfect golden son our Society demanded that I be." Shiro felt a surge of pity for Roque in that moment. And only the fact that they weren't supposed to know he was there kept him from going over to comfort the younger man right then and there.

"As tragic as that is," Victra remarked. "I don't see why you're so conflicted now. It's clear that what Darrow is trying to achieve is a world where couples like you and Altan wouldn't have to hide. Don't you think he would want that?"

"Of course, he would!" Roque snapped, his eyes glazing over with the beginnings of tears as he glared at the Julii heiress. "But I've spent so long being the perfect progeny of Gold that I don't know if I can be the boy Altan loved anymore. I knew from the moment I was drafted why I was picked for House Mars. And I tried to keep all of that buried, but it was hard when it became clear I had a type. Lea… Tactus… Quinn… they each remind me of Altan in all the ways that tear open old wounds. You're right, Victra, Altan would want Darrow's new world. But if he were alive he'd never be satisfied with any position that kept him away from my side. Even if we'd been more careful, and avoided getting caught, he'll still be dead anyway, either because Mother sold his contract to another family, or because he'd get himself killed for Darrow's crusade. I already lost Altan and Lea. I almost lost Tactus. I can't lose Quinn too."

For a few minutes, everyone was silent. Roque just sat there quietly with his head in his hands as the other three Golds processed everything he'd just said. Shiro bit his lip to keep himself from saying or doing anything that might give away his presence. Tactus looked torn between empathy for his ex-lover and satisfaction that Roque still cared for his wellbeing even if they were no longer dating. The man had confided in Shiro about his brief affair with Roque during their year at the Academy, so Shiro wasn't as startled by Roque's confirmation of their prior relationship as Victra was. The Julii looked stunned as she glanced between the two men as if she'd never noticed how close the two had been during their year of mock warfare in space. Finally, the silence was broken as Quinn scooted her seat closer to her lover.

"Roque," Quinn began gently, placing her hand on his leg. "I appreciate your concern, and I love how much you care. But it's my decision what I do or not. Our lives are filled with risk. Even if we weren't at war, accidents still happen even without political backstabbing. My torchShip from Triton could have crashed in the asteroid belt and killed all aboard. I could fall into a river and drown during the siege of Mars. There are thousands of ways that each of us could die. I'm not going to let fear of death dictate the choices I make. Because if you don't have anything worth dying for, what's the point of living?" Roque was silent after that, the glint of tears falling visible from the time traveler's perch in the corner of the room.

Shiro began to feel like he was intruding on a private moment, so he quietly got up and slipped towards the door. He had until Arcos came in before he could sneak out the door without alerting the Golds to his presence. Once the doors closed behind him, he deactivated his ghostCloak and headed back to his own quarters. Now that Darrow's core group of lieutenants knew the truth, the Reaper was planning a private dinner in his stateroom for everyone who planned to stay, so they could ask all the questions they wanted. Shiro had been offered the option to let them know about his status as a time traveler, but he would have to see how things went at the dinner before he decided whether the four Golds could a second bombshell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Roque's backstory (outside of what he mentions about his family history in the books) is largely a blank slate. But House Mars at the Institute is pretty much said to be for students with lots of anger issues, implying lots of hidden depths for Roque. One theory I heard and liked was the idea that he'd had a failed romance with someone from another color, so for this fic I took the idea and ran with it.
> 
> Most of Victra's responses to learning the truth are quoted directly from _Morning Star_ , partly because her little speech about her views on the Sons of Ares is just too good not to use, and partly because she made clear that her reaction would have been the same if she'd been told sooner, so it felt fitting.


	26. Hidden Depths

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1/26/18: Here's a brand new chapter mostly from scratch. I reworked the scene of Shiro waking up after the group bonding night to have him talking to Tactus now that everyone already knows Darrow's secret. 
> 
> Trigger Warning: There's some discussion of rape and sexual abuse at the end of this chapter in regards to Tactus' backstory. It doesn't really get graphic or anything, I just wanted to warn you all now. If you'd like to avoid the conversation, stop reading after "Shiro chuckled at the rather understated description of Tactus' brothers".

####  _Pax_ Officer’s Lounge

#### En route to the Asteroid Belt

#### February 3 rd, 2841

Shiro groaned as he opened his eyes. The flicker of light from the HC screen lit up the room in a soft glow. Lifting his hand to shield his eyes, he squinted as he glanced upward to look at the clock at the top of the screen. It was 11 in the morning ship-time. Looking around, he saw that the rest of Darrow’s inner circle was fast asleep. He couldn’t remember what time he’d fallen asleep, but he was pretty sure they’d all stayed up well past midnight. Roque, Victra, Tactus and Quinn had taken a day to get used to the idea of him being a time traveler, and after that had hounded him for questions about life on Earth before the Conquering. They’d found a channel on the HC that was marathoning old TV shows from his time and had proceeded to stay up all night binge watching and providing commentary. The last time he remembered looking at the clock had been about seven hours ago. _Great,_ he thought to himself sardonically. _As if my worries about surviving long enough to get back home weren’t bad enough without going into a potential battle sleep deprived._

He pulled himself off the chair he’d fallen asleep in as he quietly surveyed the room. Roque and Quinn were cuddled together on the couch directly in front of the HC box. Sevro and the Howlers had declined to come, as they were in the middle of planning the tryouts they were going to hold on the way back to Mars. Several of the younger Golds in their war party were interested in joining, so Sevro and the original members were discussing how to vet new recruits. Because of Sevro’s plan to hold tryouts, Darrow decided to wait before telling the Howlers the truth about his origins. The Reaper himself was off in his stateroom with Mustang. Shiro smirked at that as he carefully lowered the recliner’s footrest. Tactus had fallen asleep right next to the chair, so he needed to be careful not to disturb the man. Once he was certain that nobody else was awake yet, he tiptoed around Tactus and slipped out into the hallway.

Most of the ship was already awake at this hour, so the shift in lighting made the Black Paladin squint before his eyes adjusted to the brighter lights. In need of some food, he made his way down to the lowColor galley so that he could have his breakfast in peace. He gave a nod to Screwface and Weed as he passed the two Howlers in the hallway. They both found his preference for eating with the lowColors weird, but they respected him enough not to ask questions. At the very least it meant that he was able to make it towards the back of the five-kilometer warship without being impeded. He was satisfied when he walked in to find the galley mostly empty, except for a few Yellows eating by themselves. He took his usual seat in the corner as one of the Browns from the kitchen noticed his presence and came out to ask what he wanted this morning.

After a month and a half under Darrow's command, the ship's cooking staff had finally gotten it through their heads that the only Golds on board who ate as much as the Ash Lord were the Telemanuses, and they were the exception, rather than the norm. Shiro was still tired from the late night and asked for some pancakes. In the last few weeks, Darrow's actions in how he and Shiro treated the lower castes on board the ship had been profoundly puzzling for the lowColors. They weren't used to Golds treating them as equals, and even after getting used to it, the kitchen staff were still surprised when Shiro, Mustang, Sevro, or any of the other Golds on the ship politely thanked them for their meals. _That'll be a big part of toppling the hierarchy, though,_ the Black Paladin thought to himself as the flustered waiter retreated into the kitchen. _Hopefully, by treating the lower colors better and improving their self-worth, it will be easier to change things. Tearing down the Board of Quality Control and the Hierarchy won't make a difference if the lower castes keep groveling for every Gold that tries to boss them around._

For a few minutes, he sat in silence as he ate his meal. The quiet hum of the ship’s engines vibrated through the wall behind him, broken only by the sound of his fork clinking against his plate. He was just about to take a sip of his morning cup of tea when the doors slid open with a soft hiss. Tactus strode into the room, his dark clothes rumpled and golden hair disheveled. Without a word, the lancer took a seat at the table opposite from Shiro. The few lowColors still in the room, used to Shiro’s presence there at meals, paid the man no mind as the cook came out to ask for Tactus’ order. The two men were silent as the Brown returned to the kitchen.

Shiro couldn’t help but be impressed with how much Tactus had changed since being given a second chance on Europa. To the outside observer, he was the same as he was before. He still made acerbic comments at his friends’ expense, and he couldn’t go an hour without making a crude joke or sexual innuendo. But if one looked closely, the difference was staggering. He still told sex jokes like nobody’s business, but his biting insults lacked the cruel edge they had before, and he hadn’t even touched a Pink since coming aboard. Just comparing his behavior in the days leading up to the gala with the way he was acting now, Shiro was surprised at how quickly Tactus had mellowed.

 _Being having someone who accepts who he is behind his walls has done wonders for him,_ the Black Paladin thought to himself. Sevro, Roque, and Victra were still wary around him, but even they had noticed the sudden change in their old friend. Victra had chugged an entire bottle of Venusian wine the previous night when Tactus paid her a genuine, unironic, straight-faced compliment. Roque had jokingly asked for an audio recording to make sure he hadn’t imagined such words coming from Tactus’ mouth. The suspicion and pain from the man’s betrayal was still there, but already, it was fading rapidly.

Last night, after coming to terms with yesterday’s revelations, Tactus had asked Shiro why he supported Darrow’s decision to trust the man, knowing the kind of person Tactus was and what he had done. Shiro’s own thoughts on the matter were complicated. At the Institute, Tactus had tried to rape one of his classmates to make a point. And he’d grown up using sex slaves like interchangeable parts in a machine.

 “You’ve done a lot of terrible things,” Shiro had told him. “And you’ve survived by not thinking about it. Your shitty childhood doesn’t justify or excuse the things you’ve done but being able to recognize that it was wrong in the first place is the first step to atoning for it. I wouldn’t have supported Darrow’s choice if you were too far gone to recognize the damage you’ve done.”

The Black Paladin was jolted out of his reminiscing as the cook emerged from the Kitchen with a tray of food and slid it in front of Tactus’ seat. Once the Brown was out of earshot and the galley sufficiently empty that they wouldn’t be overheard, Tactus finally broke the silence.

“I checked the HC when I woke up this morning,” he said. “Mother’s disowned me, so I can kiss any inheritance goodbye.” While the words were probably supposed to sound sad, Shiro couldn’t detect any trace of bitterness in the younger man’s voice. Resignation, maybe. But if anything, Tactus almost sounded relieved to be officially cut off from the screwed-up family he’d been born into.

“You sound pretty relieved about that,” Shiro commented after he spread some butter across the top of his second pancake.

“It’s like you said,” Tactus replied. “Family is more than the people you’re related to by blood. My mother making it official is just a weight off my shoulders. I’m more at home among our little band of psychos than I ever was with my own brothers. Tharsus and Appolonius are like wild dogs in the streets, and rutting stags in the bedroom, if you catch my drift.” Shiro chuckled at the rather understated description of Tactus’ brothers.  

“They slept with whoever they wanted and didn’t give a shit about their partner’s emotions, then pulled a razor on anyone they felt insulted them,” Shiro summarized with a laugh. Tactus chuckled in amusement before his expression soured.  

“It wasn’t just razors, though,” Tactus said. “Appolonius once told me that the only difference between their rivals and their bedmates were that rivals were pixies they hadn’t bedded yet. Tharsus liked to say that sex was as much about domination as it was about pleasure. That’s why I tried to rape Nyla back at the Insitute. As an assertion of power.”

“You told me about that,” Shiro observed, wary about where Tactus was going with this conversation.

“I know,” Tactus answered, a look of uncharacteristic sadness on his face. “Sorry. I know I already told you, Shiro. It’s just that I feel more comfortable talking about myself with you than the others. Even leaving aside all the bridges I burned, I feel like I’ve grown up among Gold for so long that it’s easier to let my walls down for someone with an outside perspective. I know he’d be sympathetic anyway, but I’d feel ashamed spilling my innards to Darrow like this.” Shiro nodded in understanding as he put a hand on Tactus’ shoulder in support.  

“I understand,” he replied as he picked up his tea.

“As I was saying,” Tacus continued. “My brothers always taught me that sex was about dominating someone else as much as it was about one’s own pleasure. When it came to “mentoring their baby brother” as they put it, the treated “actions speak louder than words” as a personal code. And they didn’t give a shit about taboos and social norms. There was no line they were ever afraid to cross.”

Shiro froze, his cup of tea centimeters from his lips. He gently placed the cup on the table, careful not to shatter it in his shaking hands. He turned to look at Tactus, eyes widened with shock, wondering if it could possibly be true. The broken, vulnerable look in the man’s eyes made it perfectly clear that he had meant exactly what Shiro had thought he was implying. Tactus had been sexually abused – no, _raped_ – by his own brothers. _No wonder Tactus was so fucked up before Darrow showed up in his life,_ Shiro thought to himself as he re-evaluated his opinion of House Rath. _With role models like that, he had no outside perspective to show him how evil what his brothers did to him was._

Shiro’s expression hardened as a metaphorical storm brewed in his features. He had a steely, dangerous look in his eyes he hadn’t had since his duel with Zarkon in the astral plane. His left hand shook with barely contained rage. He already detested the Rath family by reputation, but now he was ready to beat them all bloody with his bare hands for what they did to Tactus, lack of superhuman strength and durability be damned. Suddenly, he felt the energy weapon in his right arm activate. The smell of burning metal registered in his nostrils, and a soft sizzling noise echoed in his ears. He had less than a second to register a metal surface giving way beneath his glowing hand before he lurched sideways until his right armpit banged against the new hand-shaped hole in the bench.  

Tactus was on his feet in an instant as he moved around Shiro to help remove his mechanical arm from the hole he’d carved in the seat. It took a few minutes of careful maneuvering before the Black Paladin’s arm was finally freed from his own unintended handiwork.

“Tactus,” Shiro began, his voice low and dark. “The next time we see your brothers, I’m going to kill them.” While a small part of him was horrified by his eagerness to kill, that was voice was quickly silenced by his own instinctive urge to protect the people around him, what his teammates jokingly called his “Space Dad” persona. More than that though, it was the fact that the Rath brothers were depraved even in comparison with other Golds. Despite everything the man had done, he still considered Tactus a tenuous friend. And the Champion had no mercy to give to those who hurt his friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah... That kind of got a bit dark there. But yeah, Tactus being sexually abused by his brothers is not something that's been spelled out in canon, but in Morning Star, Tharsus made some comments about Darrow's friendship with Tactus that had some fans on reddit scratching our heads. His exact words are "Did you piddle my baby brother? Is that why he was so besoted? Well you'd hardly be the first to plow that field if you catch my drift." And there's some debate on the Red Rising reddit subforum as to what Tharsus meant by it. Some people just thought it was a derrogatory comment about Tactus' bisexuality. Others thought that Tharsus was implying that he and Appolonius (Thank Iron Gold for giving us the name of the other brother at last) had raped Tactus when they were younger. Given what we've heard about Tactus' brothers and the way the two behave in Morning Star and Iron Gold, it certainly doesn't seem OOC for them to do that to him. 
> 
> Background Info: 
> 
> -In the Red Rising universe, English is considered a dead language. Nobody really knows what language everyone in Red Rising is speaking, since the Latin phrases in the books are explicitly identified as Latin. The fandom generally concludes that they're speaking an evolved form of Esperanto.


	27. Teatime

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another book-compliant chapter. Lots of quoting.  
> 1/16/18: Minor updates to account for Tactus' presence

####  _Invictus_  Hangar Bay

#### The Asteroid Belt

#### February 4th, 2841

Takashi Shirogane didn't normally care about what other people thought of him. In school, he'd always ignored the gossip and rumor mills, not really caring how others perceived him. The only time he'd ever really been concerned with his reputation was when Keith had informed him that the Garrison had covered up the disappearance of the Kerberos crew as a crash due to pilot error. The idea that he was being used as a scapegoat to sweep everything under the rug grated on his nerves, especially since the Garrison hadn't even thought to consider what he wanted when they strapped him down and sedated him so that they could analyze his arm. But after months in space fighting the Galra, he was able to push the frustration at his tarnished reputation to the back of his mind.

After his time in this era, though, he was beginning to rethink his lack of concern for his reputation. Joining Darrow's crusade had alleviated his frustration at not being able to help the lower colors being oppressed to ensure Gold's comfort, but since they weren't openly part of the rebellion, the guilt and frustration still lingered. And his current situation didn't help matters. He, along, with Darrow, Roque, Tactus, Victra, Sevro, the Howlers, the Telemanuses, Lorn au Arcos, Mustang, and Ragnar, had smuggled themselves aboard the  _Invictus,_ the flagship of the Augustus fleet by hiding inside a captured camel vessel. They'd hidden in the belly of the transport for fifteen hours as they approached Hildas Station, a star-shaped trade and communications hub on the fringes of the asteroid belt.

Now, silence spread like wildfire as the war party walked across the deck, armed to the teeth. The bustle of activity in the hangar stopped instantly as the lowColors working in the hangar took note of their presence. Darrow and Lorn au Arcos took the lead, flanked by Mustang and Kavax au Telemanus. Roque, Victra, Sevro and Daxo followed in the middle. Tactus and Shiro were next in line with the Howlers behind them, with Ragnar bringing up the rear like a pale, giant shepherd. Nobody in the warship's massive hangar protested the party's movement, even if their choice of attire makes their intentions perfectly clear. The group's boots all sounded like hail on the decks as they crossed the room. Shiro felt a twinge of guilt as he looked around and saw the repeated looks of fear in the eyes of the other lowColors in the room. It didn't matter to him that he and his friends have no intention of harming them. The fact that they were afraid of him was enough to make him feel guilty for being there.

But as much as Shiro wanted to reassure them that they were safe, and that he and his friends were not here to hurt them, the practical side of his brain knew that the success of Darrow's plan relied on intimidating Pliny and his supporters. Listening to what his conscience was telling him to do right now would only undermine that. And so he kept silent as the Reaper dispatched Pebble to have her squads of Greens crash the ship's communications system. The party entered the belly of the beast without a single shot being fired at or by them, and they rode the lift in silence until they were one floor above the command level. The doors opened and brought the group face to face with a squad of Gray marines.

“Captain, you're to accompany Virginia au Augustus to the engineering bay,” Darrow told the Gray bluntly. The man's eyes quickly took in the gravity of the situation, and after barely any hesitation, he saluted. His confused men fell in behind Mustang, Shiro, and the Telemanuses as they headed off to the engineering bay at a trot. As they set off, alarms began to wail.

“Well,” Shiro remarked sarcastically. “If Pliny didn't know we were here before, he certainly does now.” Mustang's expression was professionally neutral, but he could recognize from her eyes that she appreciated the attempt to lighten the mood. The Grays chuckled at the humor, and the Telemanuses laughed so loudly Shiro was afraid he'd lose all hearing in his right ear if they did it again. They reached the bay quickly and grabbed what they needed. Then, they carefully made their way into the lowColor galley as Kavax and Daxo carried their heavy cargo between them. The fact that both men were straining to hold it despite their massive size and strength gave Shiro a new appreciation for how heavy this technology was.

They met up with Darrow's cadre in the galley during lunch hours. Orange deckhands and electricians mingled with Red factory workers and Brown janitors, but the drone of conversation and plastic trays clattering on metal tables abruptly halted as soon as Ragnar entered the galley. The room was silent except for an overexcited janitor who screamed before his comrades quickly shut him up. The towering Stained walked to the center of the room and moved one of the metal tables out of the way, breaking it free of its bolts and dragging it across the metal floor with its occupants still seated on the attached benches. Shiro let out a low whistle in awe of the warrior's strength. The Telemanuses carried the circular device they'd retrieved from the engineering bay forward as Mustang guided them into position.

“Here,” she said, and Daxo and Kavax dropped it where she pointed. Shiro and the Grays followed, placing the huge battery unit on a nearby table. Darrow ordered the Howlers, who'd been sent to take the engines and life support systems, to begin their attack while Pebble helped hook up the battery. Suddenly, the ship's speakers activated with a crackle as Sevro's voice called out with a threateningly sweet tone. Darrow and Mustang snapped at him to stop, and one of the Greens attempted to disconnect the terminal, but it was too late.

_ “Dear Pliny,”  _ Sevro sang tauntingly over the comm.

_ “If your heart beats like a drum,” _

_ “and your leg's a little wet,” _

_ “It's 'cause the Reaper's come” _

_ “To collect a little debt.” _

Despite the seriousness of the situation, Shiro couldn't help but laugh at the juvenile little song the lead Howler had cooked up. Behind him, Tactus chuckled as Sevro repeated it three times until Ragnar threw a table into the console. The bickering between the hulking Obsidian and the diminutive Gold only made the two laugh even harder before Lorn reminded everyone to get back on task.

“Right,” Darrow said, getting everyone's attention. “Serious faces everyone.” Wordlessly, everyone's helmets slid from their armor to cover their skulls. Thermal readings and power levels replaced the visible spectrum. “Prime it,” he told Mustang. And with the push of a button, she activated the leechCraft thermal drill they'd set up.  _Talk about overkill,_ Shiro thought to himself. Roque and Victra had tutored him in space naval tactics on the way to Europa, and he knew from what he'd learned that the drills on leechCraft were designed to burrow through the outer hull of a ship and create a breach large enough for a boarding party to pour through. Carving through the floor of a ship was nothing, and the command rooms were directly beneath them. Without a word, Darrow jumped on top of the drill.

Over the last two weeks, Shiro had often found the former Red coming to him when he needed advice. Because the Black Paladin had an outsider's perspective on the entire system, Darrow explained that he felt that this made Shiro a more likely sounding board for ideas or doubts. Sevro was a bit too blinded by the Reaper persona to be blunt with him, even now. So, before Mustang figured out the truth, Shiro had been Darrow's confidant. Both men had bonded over what it was like to have to constantly hide who they really were, and even as Mustang, Roque, Quinn, Tactus, Victra, and now Ragnar were brought into the fold, the two had spent evenings on the way to Europa discussing each other's families, the burden of being the leaders of their respective teams, and other bits of their personal histories.

Which meant that Shiro understood the parallels when Darrow readied himself for what came next.  _Momentum is everything to a Helldiver_ , the Red had explained.  _Keep moving and dare someone to get in your path._ With his position on the drill, Shiro knew Darrow was recognizing the parallels. He was about to be a Helldiver again, even if only for a moment.

“You know what I said earlier?” Lorn inquired as everyone made their final preparations.

“About tact?” Darrow asked as he readied his razor. Lorn's grin behind his beard was almost malicious.

“Slag tact,” the old man remarked. “Terrify them.” Darrow smiled as he turned to Mustang.

“Burn,” he told her, and she pressed a button. Almost immediately, the drill glowed red. Heat radiated upwards and spread along the floor. The remaining lowColors in the room fled, abandoning their food as the floor sagged and melted in a way that reminded Shiro of sand falling through an hourglass. The drill fell through the dripping deck into the command room beneath with Darrow the Reaper riding on its back. The group heard the crack of splintering wood through the hole in the partially melted deck, and Shiro surmised that the drill had landed on the ArchGovernor's wooden table he'd seen the few times he'd been aboard the  _Invictus_ before leaving for Europa. The taunt power cord went limp as smoke, steam, and flames climbed upwards from the hole, the thermal sensors in their helmets indicating that the table had caught fire from the heat of the drill.  _That's one way to make an entrance I suppose,_ Shiro thought with a chuckle.

_ “My Goodmen!”  _ they all heard Darrow bellow through the voice amplifier in his helmet from below.  _“I have come for Pliny.”_ Through the hole, the reaper jumped down from the drill as his helmet rippled back into his armor so everyone could see his face. As Darrow walked away from the hole, Arcos jumped down, followed by Mustang. Shiro and Sevro leaped through behind her. As they landed on the burning wooden table of Augustus' office, more of their battle party followed through the hole above them. Pliny sat at the head of the long table, his face paling quickly. He only had eye left, a temporary bionic replacement lodged in the socket where Mustang had removed the organic one in her escape. Moira, the Fury, sat to his right, with an Olympic Knight by her side.

“You said he was dead,” someone to Darrow's left snarled, razor half pulled. Lorn au Arcos' name ripped through the room in panicked whispers as Shiro and Tactus quickly secured the doors leading into the room. Kavax boomed his own name wildly as he landed on the table.  _Pax must have learned it somewhere, I guess,_ Shiro observed with a wry smile.

“The Reaper is not dead,” Mustang said as she hopped down from the drill. “Nor am I. Nor is my brother. And we have come to reclaim what belongs to our father.”

“Liars!” Pliny cried frantically. “You betrayed the ArchGovernor. Seize the traitors.”

“If anyone comes within two meters of Darrow,” Arcos proclaimed simply. “I kill  _everyone_ in this room.” Shiro fought the urge to shudder at how calmly the threat had been delivered. Even if Darrow's allies were exempt from that, Arcos' eerie calm was terrifying. But nobody in the room was eager to call the old man's bluff. As Darrow walked forward, the men he passed between frantically jumped backwards as Lorn's reputation carved a hole for him straight to Pliny.

“Pliny,” the young warlord said. “We must speak.”

“Kill him!” Pliny screamed. “Kill the Reaper!” A young man lunged forward to strike at Darrow, only to immediately die as his neighbor stabbed him in the back, looking fearfully at Arcos.

“Two-point-three meters,” the ex-Rage Knight remarked dryly. “Close.”

“Kill him!” Pliny shouted, futilely attempting to prevent the inevitable. “He's just a boy!”

“Pliny au Velocitor,” Darrow began as he continued along the length of the table. His voice was quiet, but still loud enough that Shiro could hear him all the way from the door. “You are a traitor to ArchGovernor Nero au Augustus. You have conspired to destroy his house, to forcibly marry his daughter, to kill his son, and betray him to the Sovereign, who has set herself against him. Your master raised you up, and you tried to tear him down. You have betrayed his trust all for personal gain. Worst of all, you have failed.”

“Stop him!” Pliny screamed again, wildly gesticulating at Darrow. “Moira!” he cried out, desperately turning to the Fury for aid. But the Sovereign's chief Politico just whispered to the Storm Knight before both stepped to the side. Shiro couldn't hear what Pliny muttered to Darrow from his side of the room, but he was guessing it was probably something about how Aja was supposed to have killed the lancer on Europa.

“And who do  _you_ know that can kill me?” Darrow said loudly, an overdramatic rage building in his voice to impress and terrify the war-hungry Golds in the room. “The Jackal failed. Antonia au Sevrus-Julii failed. Proctors Apollo and Jupitar failed. Cassius au Bellona failed. Karnus failed. Cagney failed. Aja au Grimmus and her Praetorians failed. And now you fail.” Though he doesn't say so aloud for obvious reasons, Shiro and the others were aware of the fact that the hangman mines, and pitvipers of Lykos failed remained unsaid. Then, without warning, Darrow slipped forward and slapped Pliny across the face. Shiro only had time to blink in shock at the Reaper's audacity as Pliny pitched sideways out of his seat like a leaf smacked around in the wind. The Politico careened into a Gold woman who'd been standing by his side. She spat on the man and quickly moved out of Darrow's way.

“You are a worm who thought himself a serpent just because you slither,” the boy warlord commented mockingly. “But your power was not real, Pliny. It was all a dream. Time now to wake.” Pliny scrambled to his feet as he pushed himself away from Darrow. His hair, normally carefully combed, was a mess, and redness swelled on his right cheek where the Reaper had struck him. While Shiro felt a small amount of pity for the man, he ultimately realized that such behavior from Augustus' toady should have been expected. Pliny never attained the rank of Peerless Scarred like so many of the Golds in this room had. He hadn't been dragged out of bed, stripped naked, and beaten by Obsidians on his first day of The Institute, nor did he ever ride at the head of an armored column of loyal peers. He didn't starve for his social status, so now the only thing he could do was scramble away and cry.

Darrow seized the older man with his hands and lifted him high into the air. But he refrained from harming the older man further. Karnus au Bellona would demean the moment with petty cruelty, but Shiro, Mustang, Sevro, Roque, Quinn, Victra, Daxo, and Kavax all knew that Darrow was smart enough not to fall into that trap. In this momet, condescension was his best weapon. So, the Reaper set Pliny back in the ArchGovernor's chair and buffed his dragonfly pin. He straightened the Politico's hair like an affectionate mother, patted him on his tear-stained check, and extended his hand, which bore the class ring of House Mars. Without Darrow saying a word, Pliny tilted his head forward and kissed the ring.

“Goodbye, Pliny,” Darrow said calmly. “I leave you to your friends.” And with that, the young warlord turned and walked away, back towards his friends. The eyes of all the other Peerless in the room followed him, abandoning Pliny. Shiro closed his eyes as he heard a slurping sound from the other end of the room. He'd watched holos of duels enough to know what razors sounded like when they killed.  _So much for their loyalty to Pliny,_ the Black Paladin thought to himself sadly as he opened his eyes in time to watch Pliny's dead body slump forward in its chair.

As Pliny's former Peerless allies thumped their fists against their chests in salute to Darrow, Shiro couldn't help but think of how monstrous Gold "culture" really was beneath the surface. Allegiances shifted with the wind as greedy Golds chased power, failing to realize that power not a flexible thing.  _Power is the mountain,_ he remembered Darrow telling him once.  _Not the wind. To shift so easily is to lose trust. And trust is what keeps us alive._ The Sovereign knew this, as evidenced by how she kept her Furies close. They would die for her. As Sevro, Victra, Tactus, Roque, Quinn, and the Howlers would die for Darrow. As Shiro would die for the rest of Team Voltron, and they for him. Because in the end, what does all the power in the universe matter if your closest friends can turn on you in the blink of an eye?

Octavia's father learned this the hard way when she usurped him with the help of his own allies. Pliny learned it at the cost of his own life. Darrow had admitted to Shiro on the way to the  _Invictus_ that he'd forgotten this truth in the years since the Institute as he distanced himself from his friends, and nearly lost everything because of it. It was why Red would have a chance at rebellion. Why, unlike the Obsidians' Dark Revolt centuries ago, the Sons of Ares stood a chance at winning. Because Reds were a people bound by song and dance, family and kinship. Whereas Golds were only ever allies with each other because they thought they had to be. Shiro looked at Pliny's former allies and recognized what Darrow had been talking about. These people were so stern, so rigid, that they'll break and shatter against each other, not because of the rebellion, but because of what they had been raised and groomed to be. After a moment, Darrow floated off the ground on his gravBoots, putting everyone's attention back on him.

“Tell all who will hear,” he proclaimed. “The Reaper sails to Mars. And he calls for an Iron Rain.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Terminology:**  
>  **-Camel Vessel:** Cargo ship used to transport food and other temperature-sensitive supplies.  
>  **-Pitviper:** Venomous snake found beneath the surface of Mars. The venom is lethal, and the only way for somone to survive is to have the venom sucked out like poison from a leech venom. Darrow's heart is stronger than normal because when he got bitten as a child, his uncle left a non-lethal amount of the poison in his bloodstream on purpose, to make him stronger.  
>  **-Helldiver:** the miners working beneath the surface of Mars who operate the drills.


	28. War

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1/29/18: Completely re-wrote and overhauled the chapter. Instead of occuring the day before the Iron Rain, Lorn and Shiro's conversation takes place the morning of the battle. I went into more detail on the war preparations, and added in one last conversation with Tactus. The chapters focusing on the Siege of Mars will be updated over the next few days to take into account Tactus' presence and the effects of what happens at the new end of the chapter.

####  _Pax_  Hangar Bay

#### Martian Orbit

#### February 22nd, 2841

"Power is the crown that eats the head," the Jackal had once told Darrow as they planned the invasion. Mustang's brother had been speaking about Octavia, but Shiro knew that the truth reached farther than that. These Golds had had power for so long, and now they jumped at the chance for war. They had come from near and far, ships racing to join the Reaper's armada as they learn that Darrow has called for the first Iron Rain in twenty years. Darrow had used his secret alliance with the Jackal to spread the news, along with footage of Pliny's fall. Many of these Golds, Shiro noticed in the eighteen days leading up to the invasion, were second sons and daughters who wouldn't inherit their parents' estates. They were warmongers and glory-hungry duelists, each bringing their Gray and Obsidian attendants.

The worlds of the Society waited anxiously to see what would happen today. If they lost, Octavia would rule on.  _And if we win,_ Shiro reminded himself,  _the solar system will spiral into civil war. No world in the system can stand apart from this._ The Black Paladin was still uneasy about the lowColors who would inevitably be killed in the crossfire, but he kept himself going with the knowledge that this civil war was the only way to truly weaken Gold's power. Legions were marshalling within the  _Pax_ as the Reaper's armada gathered around the moon of Phobos. Bellona and the Sovereign's local fleets lay between the Augustan alliance and the formerly red planet. The Ash Lord was coming from the Core to provide reinforcements, but the Scepter Armada was still a week away. His fleet would be useless to the Bellona today.

Despite the gravity of the situation, Shiro was awed as he looked out the hangar bay. In his time, Mars had been a barren red rock, inhospitable and unable to support human life in the long term despite the Garrison's promises to colonize and terraform the planet. Now the fourth planet from the sun was a jewel of green and blue, like the Earth in miniature. Its white polar icecaps remained unchanged by Gold's terraforming, but the planet was now pocked with shielded cities, and blue oceans stretched along the equator. He'd seen images of the surface below coated with thick forests and fields of grass. And he knew from tactical briefings that gun stations sat out in the deserts and around the cities, where ship-killing railguns aimed skyward.  _For all their brutality,_ he mused to himself.  _Gold did a lot more to push humanity to the stars than the Garrison._

In the last two weeks, as Golds rallied to their fleet, the Black Paladin noticed something that would have been almost unheard of back on Luna. He and Tactus had been eating breakfast a week ago in the lowColor galley like they had been doing since Europa. But as they made small talk with the Oranges and Reds who served aboard the ship, he noticed that there were other Golds in the room as well. He'd immediately put his guard up, confused as to why the Aureate soldiers weren't spending their morning eating in the mess hall specifically designated for their luxury and comfort. Yet as he'd listened in to their conversation, he was struck by how casual it sounded. They were speaking with Blues and Greens and others of the lower castes as if they were equals, rather than subordinates.

Intrigued, the Paladin had kept quiet and listened to the drone of conversation further as realization began to dawn on him. While the Golds who'd come to join the Augustan armada didn't understand why Darrow would do such things as let a Blue command his warship, Darrow's reputation for success had led these Golden warriors to follow the Reaper's example. And as these Golds mingled with the lower classes they'd been raised to subjugate, friendships were being made, and minds were beginning to change. Within a few days of the invasion, Shiro was hearing some of the Golds who once considered themselves traditionalists whispering that they agreed with Mustang's views on the hierarchy. It was starting to make the time traveler wonder how many of these ruling elite might side with Darrow if the Reaper ever went public with his true origins.

The forward hangar bay on the  _Pax_ was a massive cave in the belly of the ship crawling with men and women of all Colors. Six hundred meters long, with hundreds of spitTubes on its left side, each row accessed by a network of giant causeways where troops in starShells could walk. Thousands stood ready to disperse, grouped according to legion. The alarm for battle stations warbled throughout the ship. Orion's voice rasped over the intercom. Beyond the hull, Roque, now the youngest Imperator in a century, would be breaking the armada into fleets to engage the Bellona over Mars. Squadrons of ripWings and Wasps poured forth, Blues flying to their deaths with Gold squadron leaders in their midst. All to carve a hole large enough for the leechcraft to swarm onto enemy hulls.

Some Praetors would hoard their soldiers to fight off the weaves of enemies that made it aboard their ships, while others launched full attacks. It was a gamble either way, but as much as he wanted to take command of the situation himself like he used to when he was flying the Black Lion, it wasn't Shiro's job to think about that right now. The space battle was Victra, Roque, Quinn, and Orion's responsibility. Shiro and the others had their own. He floated through the air with Milia au Trachus, one of the students from Darrow's army, helping Mustang oversee today's troop operations. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Darrow and Sevro talking in the upper levels of the hangar bay.

Suddenly, he saw Sevro hop up onto a banister and howl at the top of his lungs. Shiro smirked and howled back, along with everyone else in the hangar bay. The howl came from Grays. It came from Obsidians, from Oranges, from Reds working on final spitTube maintenance checks. It even came from the Golds who had requested transfer to the Reaper's flaghship. And that's when Shiro saw the standards of the legions fall, replaced by something new. Gone were the pyramids of the society. Gone were the laurel, and the scepter, and the sword, and the scroll. Gone was the lion of House Augustus. Instead, the high golden standards the legions carried into battle were peaked with wolves and slingBlades. These were not Augustus' warriors. These legions were Darrow's, and Darrow's alone.

Shiro felt something buzz in the people around him, like a sort of physical fanaticism. It didn't buzz in Golds quite like this before. They loved the Reaper for the victory and glory he brought them. The other Colors clearly loved Darrow for something far different, far more potent. Any other Gold would have vented the ship. But Darrow didn't because these people chose him instead of the Golds who'd once been their masters. Shiro smiled, knowing that these lowColors fought with such loyalty because Darrow had given them the freedom to make that choice. And Shiro fought for the same reason Darrow did, to weaken Gold's regime and stopple this oppressive caste system from the inside.

The trio landed on the deck of the hangar and found Lorn au Arcos waiting between Darrow and them.

"Good morning, my goodmen," the Olympic Knight greeted the three of them. "I was wondering if I could borrow Terranova for a moment."

"Better hurry, Rage Knight," Mustang replied. "Or your men will fall without you." The Rage Knight laughed before gesturing for Shiro to follow him. The Black Paladin couldn't help but feel nervous as he caught sight of Mustang's concerned glance as the old man led him out of the hangar into a small storage room. When the door closed the door behind them, Shiro heard the pop of a jamField activating. Once they were alone, Arcos began to speak.

"I did not wish to discuss this in front of prying eyes," the former Rage Knight commented as he leaned against the door. "But I would like to get a look at that arm of yours before the Rain." Shiro was concerned now. He had no idea where Arcos was going with this. He didn't want anyone to figure out that he wasn't really a Gold. But on the other hand, refusing wasn't an option right now and doing so would only arouse further suspicion. So, he reluctantly raised his right arm and demonstrated its features by melting the metal on one of the shelves in the storeroom.

"Remarkable," the old man observed as the pink glow faded from Shiro's mechanical hand. "Stories about this have been in my family for generations, but I never believed they were true." Now the Black Paladin was confused.

"Believed what, Lord Arcos?" Shiro asked hesitantly. The Olympic Knight smirked at him with a twinkle in his eye.

"Come now, young man," the Rage Knight remarked. "My family has looked to the stars since the days of Galaxy Garrison. Do you really think I wouldn't recognize Galra technology when I see it?" Shiro stiffened in shock. Whatever he'd been expecting the man to say, this wasn't it.  _How did he know?_ Lorn chuckled at Shiro's flabbergasted expression before offering the Black Paladin a smile that could only be described as reassuring.

"Stories of my ancestor's career as the Yellow Paladin of Voltron have been passed down through my family for generations," Lorn explained. "The family had an old journal full of old photographs and his writings. For much of my life, I believed those stories were nothing more than fairytales invented to sooth my great-great-I lost track of how many times-great-grandparents during the long voyage from Luna to Mars. Even the time I tried to eat stone, I thought my mother's comment about being part Balmeran to be nothing more than a private joke."

"And now?" Shiro asked tentatively, wary of how Arcos would respond.

"I knew something about you looked familiar when we first met on Europa," The old man continued. "But I couldn't put my finger on it until your arm lit up when I tried to kill that friend of yours, Rath. You can imagine my surprise when I looked back at the old photos in my ancestor's journal and realized I'd been in the presence of living proof that those old stories were true." Without thinking, Shiro turned and gave the old man a hug. Talking about his adventures with Mustang and the others helped ease the pain of being separated from the rest of the team, but that wasn't the same as finally having a real, tangible connection to his past. Even if Hunk and the others had been dead for over centuries now, the fact that their descendants kept their memory alive even in a society such as this broke down a barrier in his heart.

"Sorry," Shiro apologized as he finally calmed down, wiping the tears out of his eyes. "It's just that after being stuck her for so long, I've felt like a stranger in this era. And as great as it is being able to share things with Mustang, Darrow, and the others…"

"It's not the same thing as having a tangible connection to your past," Lorn finished as he put a comforting hand on the Black Paldin's shoulder. "I can imagine how that feels. But you'll see them again. I have an old journal full of your old adventures to prove it." Shiro sucked in a breath as he dared to let himself hope. Mustang's research into possible means of getting him back to his own era had been forcibly stalled when they fled Luna. Joining Darrow's crusade had kept him from slipping into despair, but he had begun to give up hope of ever seeing his team again.

"Do you think I could take a look once the battle's over?" he asked, fighting back tears so that the Golds around him wouldn't see him crying as he went into battle. After stumbling forward blindly, he now had tangible proof that he would make it home alive.

"Of course," Arcos replied with a knowing look in his eyes.

"Thank you, sir," he said, his voice breaking as he wiped his eyes. "I needed that."

"No need to be so formal with me, young man," Lorn commented with a smile. "Just call me Lorn. Now, I know you have more questions, but those can wait until after the battle is over. I merely assumed that giving you a reason to hope again would give you an incentive to stay alive today."

"Well you definitely gave me a reason to keep fighting," Shiro replied with a smile before Lorn deactivated the jamField and led the way back to the hangar. For the first time since the battle with Zarkon, the dying embers of hope had been rekindled into a roaring flame. Lorn bid him farewell before heading off to his own ship before the battle began. Shiro made his way up to his assigned spitTube when he found Tactus waiting at the bottom of the metal stairs.

"Are you ready to finally strike at Lune's reign?" Tactus drawled lazily. Despite his apparent disinterest, the unspoken message was clear.  _Are you ready to finally strike at the hierarchy?_

"I've been waiting four gorydamn months for it," Shiro replied with a chuckle. "Now if only we could get it over with." He wouldn't admit it aloud, but his body was practically shivering in anticipation as he thought about the war to come. There was something deep inside him that hungered for this. The adrenaline. The glory. The catharsis of knowing you lived another day by the strength in your arms alone. But Shiro felt weak as he prepared to abandon decency for humanity's darker impulses. It wasn't as though he couldn't do it. He'd done it before as the Champion in the arena. It was what would come afterward that scared him. He still remembered Mustang's lecture, but however much he agreed with her in his head, his heart had a hard time accepting her words as true when it seemed like the universe itself kept trying to prove her wrong.

"Prime, my goodman. Gorydamn prime," Tactus commented. Despite the jovial tone of the conversation, Tactus's face told a different story. The man clearly saw through Shiro's mask and looked like he wanted to say something but was unsure of how to bring it up. "Well, I just wanted to remind you to be careful with yourself out there. Potential for paradoxes aside, you would be missed if you got shot down out there."

"Thanks," he responded as they walked together towards the ladder leading to the upper causeways. "Nice to know someone will care." Despite the feigned sarcasm in his voice, Shiro meant what he said. He still deeply missed the rest of Team Voltron, but it was comforting to know that he still had people watching his back, even here.

"Good," Tactus remarked. "Good. Now, from all your tales of Voltron, I know you tend to be protective of everyone around you to the point your fellow Paladins think of you like a slightly-overprotective father figure. So, I have one last thing to say to you." And with that, the Rath leaned forward and brought his lips to Shiro's. The Black Paladin froze, caught off guard by the unexpected lip-lock. It only lasted for a second, but in his head, time seemed to flow at an infinitesimal fraction of its normal pace. When the kiss ended, Shiro could only blink in surprise.

"Don't you quiznaking dare go dying on me," the Gold said, his voice firm with a tone of command. And then he was gone, bounding up on gravBoots towards his own spitTube, leaving the preColor time traveler standing at the foot of the ladder in stunned silence.


	29. The Iron Rain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Book-compliant chapter
> 
> 1/30/18: Reworked the beginning of the chapter to get inside Shiro's head after the new ending to the previous one, and an extra paragraph of exposition in the middle to fill in some book info I left out in the original version of this chapter.

####  _Pax_ Hangar Bay

#### Mars

#### February 22nd, 2841

As he lay flat on his stomach in the honeycombed network of spitTubes that spread out along the dreadnought’s left side, all Shiro could think about what that kiss. Tactus had been more open about what he was thinking since rejoining the group after Europa, but in this case, his actions spoke louder than words ever could. Shiro wasn’t sure how he should feel with the realization that Tactus had feelings for him. In retrospect, he shouldn’t have been surprised. Other than Darrow, he’d been one of the first to welcome Tactus back into the fold when Darrow gave the man a second chance on Europa. _And considering how everyone keeps saying Darrow and I have that same kind of charisma,_ _is it any wonder he started crushing on me too?_ Shiro wondered as the battle raged around him. Thinking back on it, he could definitely see how Tactus had fallen for him.

His own feelings were more complicated. On the one hand, Tactus’ kiss had let a flock of butterflies loose in his stomach. Part of the reason they managed to get along so well despite their contrasting personalities and Tactus’ checkered past was because they still had a lot in common. They’d both been broken and shaped by the things that had happened to each other. Shiro by the arena, and Tactus by his family. Mustang and Darrow were always willing to listen when he needed someone to talk to about his experiences, but as leaders of the war effort, they were pulled in fifty different directions at once and never had the time to just sit and talk without any distractions. He hung out with the rest of Darrow’s cohort a lot, but the Howlers were still in the dark, and the rest of the inner circle couldn’t truly understand the hollowness that came from remembering that time in his life.

But in the last three weeks, Tactus had repeatedly gone out of his way to talk to him. Whenever one of them was feeling weighed down by the weight of their past, the other would drag him down in the officers’ lounge when no one was there. They wouldn’t turn on the HC or pull up any VR experientials. They’d just sit there until one of them wanted to talk about whatever was bothering them. As he thought about how it felt talking about his homesickness with Tactus, Shiro realized that part of him was starting to fall for the Gold too. They were two broken men who killed time between battles helping each other feel less broken.

Despite his romantic epiphany, there was still the matter of timing. Assuming he didn’t die today and cause a temporal paradox, Lorn had assured him that he’d make it back to his own era eventually. Could he really drag Tactus back with him? Would Tactus really be willing to leave his entire world behind to go with him? _Darrow was the one who started him down this road long before he met me,_ Shiro mused as he waited in the darkness. _What right do I have to take him away from his friends like that?_ As he waited in the silence of the spitTube, Darrow, Mustang, and the others bantered as they waited to deploy. He kept his mic muted as he listened to them chatter over the coms. While he still laughed along at their jokes, he needed to be alone with his thoughts right now.

Leaving aside his budding romantic quandary, he was scared. He wasn't afraid of the dark, or claustrophobic, but the confining space of the tube unnerved him just the same. It had only been about six months since he and the other Paladins had made their desperate gamble to finally defeat Zarkon, and already he was entangled in another high-stakes battle with the fate of billions hinging on the outcome. He couldn't feel the shudder of the _Pax_ as it plowed through the battlefield, or see the missiles ranging through space to bring silent death upon their targets. No sound or vibration penetrated the spitTube, save for the beating of his own heart.

Despite the renewed hope his conversation with Lorn had filled him with, he was still afraid of dying, just like anyone else would be. And on top of the fear, he just felt homesick. He missed Allura, Coran, Kieth, Lance, Hunk, and Pidge. He missed his family back on earth, still ignorant of the fact that he was alive. He wanted to help Darrow topple the hierarchy, and he wanted to figure out the tangled mess of his relationship with Tactus, but right now, he just wanted to go home. Even with all the things he' done as a Voltron Paladin, he'd never pulled a stunt as crazy as this. As he waited in the darkness of the metal cocoon, Shiro's mind raced with all the different things that could go wrong. He trusted Darrow and Mustang's judgement, but he still felt that going straight for Agea, the Martian capital, was extremely risky and would likely result in high casualties. He turns his mic back on as Roque announces that he’s engaged the main element of the enemy fleet.  

“Hic Sunt Leones,” Darrow said to the group over the comm. "Be brave. Be brave, and I'll see you on the other side.” The others echoed the sentiment. Not out of loyalty to the ArchGovernor, but because they all wished they were as brave as lions. Shiro grinned as an idea flew into his head.   

“Hic Sunt Leones,” he echoed, and he could practically hear everyone grinning as he put his own spin on the phrase. “Hic Sunt Voltron.”

One by one, everyone said their goodbyes and wished each other luck. As Shiro thought about what was going to happen next, he ultimately realized that he really knew nothing. He'd seen the VR simulations and HC clips of previous Iron Rains, but that wasn't the same thing as actually knowing what it was like. _It's like knowing what flying is because you see birds doing it,_ he thought to himself. _But knowing what it is isn't the same thing as understanding what the experience of flying feels like._ Before his doubts could chisel away at his resolve any further, the main com channel opened to broadcast to the entire armada. He forced all thoughts of death and time travel and Tactus’s kiss from his mind as he braced himself for the launch.

“Deployment coordinates reached”" Roque announced to every Gold in the fleet. "Let fall the Rain.” _Here we go,_ the Black Paladin thought to himself. _It's showtime._ The whining of the tub's magnetic charge filled Shiro's ears. His body slid forward into the chamber as he braced himself for what came next. Despite his fear, he forced himself to look down, so the G forces wouldn't snap his neck. The spitTube fired, and velocity claimed him as bile rose to the back of his throat. Shiro fought to keep himself from screaming as he ripped through the magnetic stream, out of the tube, and into the swarming chaos of battle.

Fire and Lightning ruled the darkness of Mars' orbit. Metallic behemoths spat missiles back and forth, silently pounding each other with all the weapons of war humanity had invented. _I know there's not supposed to be any sound in space,_ Shiro thought to himself amidst the panicking as he hurtled through space. _But experiencing the silence personally like this is just eerie._ Veils of flak exploded around ships on both sides, cloaking them in fury and looking like raw cotton scattered into the wind. RipWings and Wasps engaged each other in dogfights as they spewed gunfire at each other. The nimble starfighters nipped and sliced at the metal carapaces of the other side's ships as they fought each other in a dense cloud of steel.

Then the fighters began to break off from their chaotic fights in small packs and spiraled silently towards clusters of leechCraft as destroyers and carrier ships launched their troop transports across space in undulating waves. Most space warfare, Shiro had learned from Roque and Victra, was a game of boarding parties. The smallest Man-of-War cost the gross yearly output of twenty cities to make, so it was cheaper in both money and lives to board an enemy warship and claim it for yourself. The leechCraft flew over, under, and through the curtains of flack as they sought out hulls to clamber onto, so they could pump their deadly cargo into the belly of crucial ships. Each one piloted by a Blue raised to do only this one thing. Bellona ships passed those of Augustus as the waves overlapped and broke on one another.

All this happened in total silence as missiles leaped towards leeches, detonating hulls. Since there was no oxygen in space, there were no massive explosions. Only flames where the ships were punctured and began leaking oxygen like harpooned whales leaking blood. _Or a wounded opponent in the gladiator arena,_ Shiro thought to himself as he hurtled through the battle with nothing but the clunky exo-thermal armor to protect him. All around him, Darrow, Mustang, Quinn, Sevro, the Howlers, and the rest of their forces fell in silence. Until they made landfall on the surface, there was nothing he could do but watch the battle unfolding around him. Railgun fire streaked through space, tearing through leeches and fighter craft simultaneously, poking holes in the ranks. Men and women flew out into the vacuum of space as both sides targeted each other's engines.

Amidst the blue and silver mass of the Bellona fleet, the massive family flagship _WarChild_ shattered Augustus ships left and right like a giant strolling through a field of sheep, swing its club like a pendulum. Victra's destroyer, shielded by two other ships, sprinted towards the _WarChild_. Railguns and missile fire strafed her ship's hull. Eventually, she got too close for the Bellona to try to capture, and they opened another salvo into the ship's weakened underbelly. But amid the fire, the corvette spewed out a desperate burst of forty leechCraft. But instead of attacking the blue and silver eagle of House Bellona, Victra plunged through the enemy formation towards her mother's flotilla, bearing the bleeding sun of House Julii. And that's when Victra sprang her second trap.

In an instant, Victra's mother switched sides, betraying the Bellona as her daughter had convinced her to. The Julii ships unloaded over two hundred leechCraft right in the heart of the Bellona fleet, throwing the enemy formation into chaos. Immediately, Bellona-friendly leeches began to redirect back to the _WarChild_ to provide support in the battle that would clutter the family's flagship with smoke and blood. As Shiro witnessed ripWings trying to shoot leechCraft off the _WarChild_ before they could unload their boarding parties, he couldn't help but be awed by the beauty of it all. The elegant dance of action and reaction and reaction and reaction. Shiro could do nothing to alter his trajectory as he carried on through space. On either side, thousands of Golds and Obsidians streaked through space, all armored in clunky thermal suits while the Grays rode down in hive-pods of twelve marines each.

This was what Golds meant when they spoke in hushed tones of an Iron Rain. An intense onslaught of men and metal as soldiers fell towards their target all the way from orbit. Amid the current of raining warriors, Storks followed behind, packed with more Obsidians and Grays. Once they made landfall and secured the beachheads, the legions that had come from far and wide for this battle would pour out behind them on landing craft to take the surface. Contrary to what their enemies thought, the planet's orbit was too large for the Bellona to stop them from landing soldiers. That, Darrow and Mustang had explained to Shiro, was why holding the cities of Mars was so important. Each city was like an island. The only practical way of seizing them was to make landfall and slip under the two-hundred-meter gap between their shields and the ground. And that required millions of men on the surface in a coordinated assault.

In the chaos of the battle, missiles streaked for the landing party's suits. Augustus-aligned capital ships deployed flak screens behind them, while starfighters protected their flanks. But enemy fighters managed to swoop in from the sides and strafe them. Shiro was already sweating nervously, but now he was on the edge of a full-blown panic attack as dozens of soldiers died around him, their armor folding back like burnt paper. Finally, the Black Paladin gave up and screamed at the top of his lungs in unrestrained terror. His comm went silent as the others cut off his connection so they could concentrate. But there was nothing he could do except pray. Pray that he didn't die. Pray that his friends didn't die.

Shiro's heart pounded in his chest as he began to hyperventilate. He wanted to be home. He was supposed to be back aboard the Castle of Lions, saving the day as a Paladin of Voltron. Or back on Earth in his own time, in the comfort of home with his family. He wanted to forget about the pain. But he wasn't home. He was falling towards the Martian atmosphere, where killers cared for nothing more than filling his body with hot metal before moving on to kill his friends. Tears stung his face as his mind finally wore itself out and his body went into autopilot, acting completely on instinct and training. Mars grows above him until it swelled to consume his entire field of vision. His display on his helmet was too busy for him to track what was happening. He wouldn't know until he landed who was dead and who was still alive.

Sound roared back into his ears as the rain of soldiers hit the atmosphere. The Black Paladin's trembling body was enveloped in a halo of color as the friction heated the exterior layer of his armored exoskeleton. On either side of him, the falling warriors looked like lightning bugs seen through the filter of an LSD trip in the glow of the sun. Moments later, a pop-up on his display notified Shiro that he'd cleared the atmosphere. With a verbal command, his suit jettisoned its friction armor and his pace accelerated. As soon as the group made it clear of the atmosphere, anti-aircraft gunfire screamed up at them from the surface, carving holes in the falling swarm. But like a beehive that had been hit with a stick, the invasion force activated their gravBoots and broke off into a thousand different squadrons, each following its own coordinates.

Bellona ripWings had followed them into the atmosphere, but they weren't as maneuverable as they were in space, and the Augustan forces now had the upper hand. Shiro slashed at a passing ripWing with his mechanical arm as he followed Mustang towards the designated drop point. They were the first to land as they slammed down onto the slopes of a snow-covered mountain near the landing zone. Clouds of vapor rose around them as their red-hot suits melted holes in the white, powdery terrain. The rest of their force, a mix of Golds, Greys, and Obsidians numbering roughly four hundred, roared down around them as they finally found safe harbor on the ground. As he stood up from the crouch he'd landed in, Shiro felt his stomach churn. And before he could get any on himself, he pulled open his helmet and vomited into the snow.

"There goes my breakfast," he quipped with a groan as he tried to lighten the mood. He hadn't been the only one to hurl after the intense adrenalin rush of the Rain. All his education with Mustang on Luna and training with Darrow and Roque hadn't prepared him for this. Mustang put a reassuring hand on his shoulder as she helped him up. He nodded in thanks as he wiped the vomit from his mouth. At Mustang's command, the armored column stripped off their clunky exo-thermal suits, revealing the more agile starShells beneath. Right now, Shiro wanted nothing more than for it all to be over. But he knew that it wasn't going to be that easy. _What I wouldn't give to have the Black Lion with me,_ the Black Paladin thought to himself sadly as Mustang ordered everyone to don their helmets.

Four hundred troops stood ready as Mustang answered a call from Darrow over the com. As they waited, Shiro took stock of their surroundings. They had landed on Mars’ day-side. The sky looked like a meteor shower as the next wave of starShells pierced the atmosphere, leaving trails of smoke across a sky now scarred by fire. Hundreds of ground cannons still shot at the swarm that spread across the horizon, but the gunfire thinned as the artillery was targeted from space or eliminated by ground squads like theirs. Shiro and Mustang’s force had landed two hundred fifty kilometers from the designated drop zone. The Reaper’s squad was fifty kilometers farther from where they needed to be than they were. Mustang signed off on the call with Darrow and gave the order to move out.

Moving at a brisk pace, the armored force made their way towards the rendezvous point a few peaks over, using gravBoots to quicken their pace. They arrived on the mountain shortly after Darrow did, scattering snow as they slammed into the ground. Shiro waited patiently and caught his breath as Mustang and Darrow attempted to contact Roque in orbit. Jam fields and the gathering thunderstorm were disrupting the signal, so Darrow sent Ragnar, Tactus, Proctor Jupiter (one of many former Institute instructors who came to join the Augustus armies), and a hundred Obsidian warriors to secure the valley north of the mountain range as a landing field for their Gray legions before the Reaper ripped up through the thunderclouds with his bodyguards until he could get high enough to hail the fleet. Shiro knew some of what Darrow was planning, but even he was still shocked when the young warlord landed back on the ground and reported that the Sovereign herself was trapped behind the shields of Agea.


	30. At the Wall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quote-heavy chapter
> 
> 1/30/17: Minor edits to account for Tactus' presence and explain why he won't be in the EMP scene.

#### Edge of the Valles Marineris

#### Mars

#### February 22nd, 2841

In retrospect, Shiro should have expected that bombshell. Darrow had explained that he'd allowed Aja to escape from Europa, so they could track her back to the Sovereign via the radiation signature of the landmine spikes. It made sense, after all. She was Octavia's personal killer. It was both obvious and inevitable that she would return to the Sovereign's side. Shiro had been one of five people trusted with that part of the plan to prevent it from being leaked to the enemy. He just hadn't known she'd been in Agea all along. Shiro forced himself to focus on the task at hand as he looked beyond the mountain range. The vanguard of Darrow's ground forces made landfall in the canyon ahead while Blues in space laid down cover fire on Agea itself.

The Martian capital sat at the bottom of the Valles Marineris, the canyon system that stretched nearly a quarter of the planet's circumference along its equator. Despite the seriousness of the situation, Shiro couldn't help but grin. Galaxy Garrison had sent a few manned missions to Mars before his fateful trip to Kerberos, but, according to Pidge and Lance, there had yet to be an expedition where human beings had set foot in the canyons themselves even after his capture. While it had already been colonized for centuries by this point, the Black Paladin felt a surge of pride at being the first Galaxy Garrison astronaut to set foot in one of the deepest canyons in the solar system. A bright flash forced him to blink the spots out of his eyes and return his focus to the task at hand.

The force field protecting Mars' capital city pulsed opaque under the deluge of orbital bombardment. Shiro felt somewhat grateful that they were approaching the city at ground level from the bottom of the hundred-kilometer-wide canyon that ran north and south of the capital, slipping under the two-hundred-meter gap that all the shields had to maintain above the soil to avoid triggering seismic activity. Once everyone had geared up for their assault on Agea, Darrow Mustang, Shiro, Tactus, and Sevro were the next ones off the mountain, with the rest of their battalion following behind them. With the aid of their gravBoots, they jumped between mountain peaks and lower foothills, taking fire from Bellona ground forces as they went.

As they travelled towards their next meeting point, Shiro processed the ramifications of what Darrow had told him, aware that the young warlord was likely doing the same. With Octavia captured or killed, the Society would fracture. Without the iron will of the Sovereign to hold everything together, senators and governors would all attempt to seize power for themselves, fracturing the cohesion of humanity's empire. And amid the chaos, the Sons of Ares would rise from the dying remnants of Gold civilization and rebuild society into a social system that didn't rely on the oppression of the masses to function. Shiro had to admit that the plan stood a fair chance of succeeding. He just wished that there would be less risk of innocent civilian casualties. He was jolted out of his thoughts once again by the sound of a private com channel opening.

“We're over the Institute now,” Mustang told him and gestured downward. The Black Paladin gazed at the view that passed beneath them as they glided down into the canyons from the northern edge. While Shiro disliked the idea of a school where teens were forced to go _Lord of the Flies_ on each other as “education”, the sight of the empty grounds felt almost haunting. The students had all been evacuated as soon as the invasion began, another grim reminder to the paladin of the fact that he was in the middle of a war. After a few minutes of gliding, they landed atop the floating island of Olympus, which as Shiro understood, was basically the Institute's equivalent of a faculty lounge. Shiro took note of the corpses littering the slopes of the mountain while Darrow and Mustang rendezvoused with Ragnar and the Jupiter instructor on one of the white spires of the island's fortress. A few minutes later, the four returned to the group, where Darrow told the rest of his small council that the Sovereign was here on Mars.

After making sure everyone was on the same page, that they were not to engage Cassius, Karnus, or Aja if they encountered any of them, the group set off once more as friendly ripWings roared overhead to clear their path. Once all their forces were marshaled, they moved quickly through the green canyon between the Institute and Agea itself. They weren't a slow, creeping column anymore, though. This time, they moved fast. Grays on speederbikes and spiders tore ahead after the dropships that glided down to deposit troops closer to the walls. On the opposite side of the canyon, Lorn's battalion would be taking the same approach from the south. Up ahead, a series of flashes briefly illuminated the stormy skies, an indication of either mines detonating or mine killers doing their job. It was impossible to tell from this far away.

A squad worth of flying Obsidians was shredded by drone fire before the Howlers could take out the capital's automated defenses. Small towns, resorts, estates, and farms passed beneath as the fast-moving army skimmed over buildings on the outskirts of Agea. At last, they came within sight of the capital city's defensive wall. While living on Luna had desensitized him to the scale of everything by now, Shiro still felt awed at the massive barrier. From their current position in the canyon, it stood ninety kilometers across, and rose almost two hundred meters into the air, stopping just below the shields. Shiro knew from tactical readouts that rivers and lakes ran beneath the wall through a network of thick durosteel grates that were as strong as starship hulls had dismissed the possibility of entering the city that way after determining that it would take too long to drill through the bars, even with a hundred soldiers working for ten hours straight.

As they approached the wall, Shiro watched in awe as fire rippled over stell along the defensive barrier. Two feint assaults were being carried out to the left and right of their own formation. ripWings fired railguns at the wall as they slid through the sky. Armored Grays swarmed forward like ants, while rocket teams deployed and sent slithering death into the Agean defenders. Like the space battle up in orbit, the battle on the ground was a dizzying puzzle made up of layers and layers of activity and counter-activity. The only difference was that the ground battle had sound. Landmines blew holes in their force while Bellona kill squads slipped out of the wall a hundred meters up, flying out to attack in their full regalia, with banners waving in the wind and gold glistening on their armor.

The Bellona shields shimmered as weapons fire from the attackers lanced their foes with weapons fire. _I wonder if Cassius is here,_ Shiro thought to himself as he spotted the silver eagle of House Bellona's banner amid the enemy forces. Darrow had the same thought and looked ready to charge forward at the possibility of facing the Bellona again before Mustang grabbed his arm. Shiro couldn't hear what she told him, but her gesturing to the river made her point clear. So instead of charging ahead at the Bellona kill squads, the Reaper of Mars ran to the side and dove into the river. Without hesitation, Mustang, Jupiter, the Howlers, and the Obsidians sprinted forward and followed him beneath the way.

Confused, the Black Paladin raced ahead and dove into the river after the rest of the group, the remaining troops not far behind him. He felt the current speed him again towards where the rest of the group is already swimming downward, fish scattering out of his way as he kicked his legs to catch up. When he saw that the grates that allowed the river to flow through the wall beneath the water's surface had been cut away, Shiro's first thought was that it was a trap. But Darrow didn't appear to be surprised by it in the slightest, which tipped him off to the fact that his initial assumption was incorrect. _He must have finally managed to contact the Sons of Ares,_ Shiro realized, remembering that the young warlord had mentioned trying to get in touch with the resistance movement for assistance. _He had them cut the greats open in advance so that we could bypass it with minimal casualties. Brilliant!_

A few minutes later, the rest of their cadre regrouped on the opposite side of the wall. Shiro followed Mustang, Sevro, and the remaining Howlers through the breach. Fifty more Golden legionnaires came through behind him, trailed by three times that many Obsidians and Grays. Shiro bumped armored fists with Mustang, Sevro, and Darrow as the young warlord reminded everyone of their orders. Ragnar saluted, balling his fist against his heart while Proctor Jupiter yawned into his com. Clown, Pebble, and Weed riled up the remaining Howlers for the next fight, kicking up dirt and silt at the bottom of the river. Shiro took the brief respite as a chance to catch his breath, letting the echo of his inhaling and exhaling create a soothing rhythm as he waited for the next chapter of chaos and death to begin.

As they waited in the inky darkness of the riverbed, Mustang departed downriver, taking her troops as she began following the river until she would reach a park near the shield generators. Tactus went with her. Darrow was clearly nervous watching her go, knowing that there was a high chance she could die today, and though he tried to keep the thought out of his mind, Shiro was nervous for Tactus as well. Still, he and Sevro each put a hand on the Reaper's shoulder to reassure him. Darrow closed his eyes and nodded his thanks as Sevro floated upwards to collect the probe he'd sent out above and informed everyone that they were clear. There was nobody above them except for a girl playing in the mud. Shiro was immediately suspicious but decided to hold his comments until he actually saw the situation above water for himself.

“Fight for each other,” Darrow said over the com to those still by his side. “Or me.” And with that, everyone in the group activated their gravBoots and rocketed out of the water, breaking through the surface of the river like inky monsters. Everyone's black starShells dripped water as they flew up over the riverbank, covered in mud from the rain that had fallen before the shields went up. A single, unarmored Brown girl stood below, ankle deep in the mud. Shiro's brow furrowed in confusion, danger senses screaming at him that something was wrong. _Why isn't she hiding with her family?_ He wondered. _What possessed her to come out into the middle of a warzone completely unprotected?_ Realization dawned on his as the girl looked up at the strike team, but it was already too late. Lightning illuminated her as she snatched a device that resembled a small sphere from the basket at her feet.

“Shoot her!” Sevro snarled. But Darrow knocked the Howler's hand aside, and a tree exploded into splinters instead. Meanwhile Shiro looked above, where Bellona knights and their Obsidian retinue were perched atop the wall, out of range of Sevro's probe and just beyond the blast radius of the EMP globe the girl was carrying. She pressed a button on the device, and Darrow's forces began to die.


	31. Mud

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> # Part IV: Ruin
> 
> # "Rise so high,
> 
> #  in mud you lie."
> 
> # Karnus au Bellona

#### Agea

#### Mars

#### February 22nd, 2841

The EMP made a sound like a kid gasping while being pricked by a needle at the doctor's office as it detonated. The strike team's electronics died instantly, gravBoots sputtering as the massive metal starShells were claimed by gravity. Shiro didn't even had time to scream as he and the others plummeted down. Most of the group fell into the mud on the riverbank, but the Black Paladin wasn't so lucky. His ears popped from the rapid change in pressure as he sank into the murky water. He hit the ground hard, and his legs buckled under the weight of his armor as he lodged in the mud on the river bottom. It's too dark for him to see any of the others. He only caught a glimpse of shapes moving over the surface of the water as they fell.

_I can't move!_ Shiro thought frantically as he realized that the starShell was too heavy. He felt like a turtle, half submerged in the mud at the bottom of the river. Despite his heart hammering in his chest, Shiro fought the urge to panic. His armor restricted his ability to move his head, so he couldn't look to see who had landed near him. Coms were dead, although he was willing to bet that if they weren't, he'd probably be hearing a lengthy stream of screaming and curses. Based on what Shiro knew, the only ones Darrow would have discussed this part of the plan with would be Mustang, Sevro, and the Sons of Ares. And since none of them would have ratted their team out, that mean that Cassius had simply been able to predict Darrow's gambit and plan his family's defense of Agea accordingly.

Shiro kept his breathing slow and steady. With the air recycler offline, there was only a limited supply of oxygen left in his suit. He jerked his body around as he tried to get himself off his back, to no avail. He was lodged too deeply in the mud, and his suit had been reduced to a metric ton of useless metal. Removing the excess weight of the suit required the use of internal electronics, which were obviously no longer an option. Shiro could barely push himself up with his arms. But despite his fear, he remained calm. Because while his suit was dead and he couldn't contact the others, there was still one piece of technology that the Bellona hadn't accounted for: his right arm.

Whatever power source the Galra used to create his arm wasn't dependent on electricity. He'd known that ever since he and Pidge had taken the time to analyze it back at the Castle. Shiro never thought that he'd be grateful to the Galra for what they'd done to him, but the cruelty of Haggar and the Druids might end up saving his life today. Shiro took a deep breath to steady himself before he activated the energy weapon built into his hand. Within seconds, he'd burned through the armor on his right hand. With some of the weight removed, he dragged his right arm over until he could cut his left arm free. With both hands out of the armor, he twisted his right arm until he could cut through the piece connecting the right sleeve to the main body of the suit. He flinched as his weaponized hand boiled the water around it.

Within two minutes, both of his arms were free from the starShell. Now that he had more freedom to move, he set to work melting a big enough hole in his chest armor so that he could pry himself out of the starShell. Water began to pour into his suit the more he cut himself free, so Shiro took as few breaks as possible, knowing that his life depended on working quickly. After five minutes, he was fully free as he removed the legs of his suit. He held his breath as he gingerly cut away his helmet and exposed himself to the open water. Once he could move again, he swam away, using the light from his prosthetic hand to guide him. His first target was a few feet away, where he had seen movement while he had been cutting himself free.

He found Darrow carefully cutting away his suit piece by piece with his own razor. Shiro quickly swam over and accelerated the process with a few careful slices with his Galran arm. Darrow nodded his thanks before using the military hand gestures Golds had developed over the centuries to communicate that his rescuer should catch his breath. Shiro nodded and signed back that he would come back and help with the others once he had. The Black Paladin kicked through the current towards the surface. He emerged less than a minute later, and immediately muffled himself to keep from gasping too loud as he sucked oxygen into his empty, aching lungs. The sounds of warfare in the distance and the groaning of wounded soldiers nearby rushed into his ears as he took a deep breath and dove back under.

He passed Ragnar and Darrow on the way down as the duo headed up to take their own breaths of fresh air. The pink glow of his right hand guided him in the darkness as he swam towards the dark shapes of Golds trapped inside their starShells. Sevro had been buried headfirst in the bottom of the river, so Shiro freed him first. Together, the two of them rescue the Howlers next, saving Weed and Screwface before their oxygen ran out before moving on to the others. They were too late to save any of the Grays and had begun to rescue the Obsidians when Darrow and Ragnar descended with fresh pairs of clearly stolen gravBoots. With their combined efforts, most of their men were quickly ferried up with far fewer casualties that Darrow and the others had feared.

“Did Mustang and Tactus get through?” Shiro asked wearily as everyone caught their breath and regrouped from the ambush. Darrow and Ragnar had already killed the Bellona forces that had been executing the survivors above the surface while Shiro and Sevro had been freeing those trapped underwater, so they had a small window in which to recover from their ordeal. _I just hope she didn't run into anything like this,_ he thought to himself as everyone looked to Darrow.

“I think so,” the Reaper said. “But I can't hail Mustang on any coms. We must hurry either way. If she is alive and she blows the generators, so our reinforcements can land, then the shield falls, and the Sovereign has a wide window to escape. Right now, she's bottled up." Sevro nodded as Pebble helped the Howler to his feet. Thistle snapped at Ragnar to drop the razor in his hand as he helped another Obsidian from a fried starShell. Shiro winced as he remembered that it was illegal for any color but Gold to even touch the weapons, punished with a slow, painful death if they did. Darrow was bending the rules as far as possible, but Shiro could tell that even the Howlers had their limits to how much they would tolerate. The prejudice against Obsidians saddened Shiro. Despite being an unstoppable killing machine, Ragnar still managed to hold onto a innocence that reminded the Black Paladin of Shay, and it ground his nerves that only a few Golds were willing to look past their preconceptions and see the towering knight as a person instead of the human weapon he’d been bred to be.

Once everyone had been brought up from the riverbed, they went through the suits of those who fell above the surface to see who was still alive. It was a massacre. The EMP attack had decimated their strike force. Rotback had been killed above the surface by Bellona legionnaires, along with the rest of the new Howlers recruited before the invasion. Other than Quinn, who was up in space with Roque, Sevro, Thistle, Clown, Screwface, Weed, and Pebble were the only Howlers left. And of the fifty Obsidian who had accompanied them through the wall, only eleven remained besides Ragnar. They had lost contact with Mustang’s strike team, and their starShells were useless now.

_When will this all end?_ Shiro wondered as he watched the Howlers grieve for Rotback while Darrow and Sevro stood to the side. _How could humanity have fallen so far that the only way to improve society is through all this death and destruction?_ The Black Paladin's eyes watered as he kneeled there on the bank of the river amidst the corpses of his fellow soldiers. He was disgusted by the tactics employed by the Sovereign and her defenders, and by the circumstances which forced him into these situations where people who might have been friends and allies died while the power-hungry leadership continued unchecked. But as much as he wanted to join the Howlers in grieving, they didn't have time to mourn. If they wanted to stay alive, they had to keep moving.


	32. Achilles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1/26/18: Condensed both parts of Achilles into one chapter.

#### Agea

#### Mars

#### February 22nd, 2841

They didn't have time to mourn. With their ranks decimated, they needed to split up even further to accomplish the mission objectives. Darrow's army outside the city hurled itself against the impenetrable walls, expecting to receive help from the inside. Ragnar and the surviving Obsidians were assigned the task of opening one of the walls gates for the Legates who waited in reserve with thousands of Grays and Obsidians. Shiro and the rest of the group prepared themselves for battle while Darrow had a quiet conversation with Ragnar. Shiro noticed Thistle eying the giant evilly as the rest of the group armed themselves with whatever they could scavenge from the field of corpses.

“Darrow!” Thistle gasped as the Reaper placed a razor in Ragnar's hand. “What are you doing?” It was a death sentence for any Color but Gold to even touch the things, but the Reaper clearly didn’t care. _It looks like we’ve lost the Howlers, then,_ he thought to himself as he powered up his weaponized right hand. _Golds may be able to accept things like giving Orion command of the Pax, but everyone has a limit to how much of Darrow's tactics they consider acceptable. If we tell them the truth, they’ll turn on us._ He readied himself for a fight as Sevro told Thistle to shut up.

“He can't do that!” the Howler protested as she stomped forward and tried to rip the razor out of Ragnar's hand. Shiro smiled when the Obsidian refused to let go. “Give it up, slave _,_ ” Thistle snapped as she drew her own razor. “Give me the blade. Give me the blade or I'll cut away the hand that holds it.”

“Then I will cut you down, Thistle,” Sevro sneered.

“Sevro?” she replied as she turned back with her eyes wide. She looked up at Darrow in confusion, then at the other Howlers. She was hoping to find support from the rest of their team, but Shiro felt a surge of satisfaction as he realized that while the remaining Howlers weren't actively supporting the action, they weren't violently opposing it like Thistle was. At best, they appeared to be confused as to what was going on. _Maybe I spoke too soon,_ Shiro mused as he looked around at the Howlers.

“Have you gone mad?” Thistle demanded as she looked at Darrow. “It's not his right. It's ours. He doesn't…”

“Deserve it?” Shiro snapped angrily, losing his patience for Golds who talked about the inferiority of the other Colors after almost drowning. “Who are you to decide that?”

“I'm a Gold,” the Howler shrieked before calling out to the others for support. “Clown, Pebble…” But the two Howlers in question only tilted their head in silence.

“Darrow,” they asked. “What is this?” Shiro felt his hopes bolster as he remembered his conversation with Roque the previous day. There might just be a chance the Howlers would sidie with the rebellion after all.

“It's my army,” Darrow said bluntly. “You remember the Institute. You remember how I bleed for those who follow me. How I do not take the allegiance of slaves. Why now are you surprised by this? Because it is real?”

“It's a slippery slope, is all,” Clown answered as he looked at the war going on around them. “Even here.”

“You're right,” the Reaper replied. “It is.” The young warlord bent over and grabbed another razor out of the mud, tossing it to another Obsidian. The woman was half Darrow's size (but still taller than Shiro) and held the polyenne sword like it was a snake, glancing at the Red-turned-Gold in fear. The Black Paladin bristled at the reminder of what the Board of Quality Control had done to uphold the hierarchy, raising the Obsidians to believe that the Golds were gods. He forced that anger out of his mind as he and Sevro walked through the field of corpses and tossed more razors to the giant warriors.

“Don't cut yourselves,” Sevro said.

“I'm counting on you,” Darrow told the Obsidians. “Go.” And with that, the Obsidians disappeared, sprinting into the darkness along the back side of the colossal wall protecting Agea. All the Howlers except Thistle shook their heads quickly when Darrow asked if there was a problem. Thistle required a bit of pressure before grudgingly accepting Darrow's decision. _We may be able to sway the others, but Thistle won't follow Darrow after this,_ Shiro thought as he observed her reluctance. A quick glance at the Reaper confirmed that Darrow had come to the same conclusion. But that was a problem to be dealt with after the battle.

To win, they needed to move fast. They'd only been able to salvage one working pair of gravBoots. Darrow elected to give them to Sevro before they tried to see if he could lift them the way that the Reaper had carried his Howlers to Olympus during their year at the Institute (which Shiro considered his favorite part of the footage Mustang had showed him), but the boots sparked and sputtered as the team tried to lift off. They were too damaged in the fighting and rescue to carry anything more than Sevro's weight. _Quiznak,_ Shiro cursed to himself as he realized that their only option was to proceed on foot. _This ambush may have just cost us our chance of taking out the Sovereign._

“Armor off,” Darrow ordered as he pointed to the reoilPlates of the few Howlers lucky enough to still have them after the loss of their starShells.

“What?” Shiro asked incredulously, chuckling internally at how the Howlers spluttered the same thing in unison.

“Armor. Off,” Darrow repeated. “Except scarabSkin.”

“Unarmored against Praetorians?” Thistle retorted. “Do you want us all to die?” While Shiro had similar protests, he refrained from voicing them. He had come to know Darrow well enough to know that there was always a method to his perceived madness. As he thought about the state of the battle and the different possibilities, the Black Paladin couldn't help but feel that the other Paladins would be drawn in by the Reaper's magnetic charisma if they were in his place. And sure enough, the man did indeed have an explanation.

“We need to move fast,” the young warlord explained. “If the shield goes down before we get to the Citadel, the Sovereign will slip away. If we do not capture her, she will have a chance to regroup. She will join her Ash Lord. She will summon all of the Society, and they will come here with ten times our number to crush us. We'll win the battle, lose the war.” Shiro nodded as he followed the Reaper's train of thought. It made sense.

“But if we take her…” Sevro growled as he walked to Darrow's side.

“We're talking about the Sovereign,” Clown protested. “She'll have Praetorian Olympic Knights…”

“And?” Sevro asked. “We have us.”

“Seven of us,” Clown retorted, shrugging sheepishly as the rest of them stared at him.

“Numbers don't mean anything,” Shiro replied. The odds were starting to remind him of his time as a Paladin of Voltron. It was just the five of them, plus Allura and Coran. Seven people against an empire that had ruled unopposed for ten thousand years. And yet they always managed to find a way to win.

“We have fifteen kilometers to cover on foot,” Darrow said. “My pace.” Everyone exchanged worried looks before starting to take off their armor. “If you fall behind,” the warlord continued. “Find a place to hide.” Shiro had seen all the footage of the Institute. Compared to his baseline human physique, Darrow might as well be The Flash. Even with everyone's bodies in prime shape and the Martian gravity one third that of Earth's, the Reaper had been carved so that he could run far faster than the average Gold. _Even if we all miraculously manage to keep pace with him,_ the Paladin thought to himself. _This is still going to be hard._

Shiro was terrified. Even more so than when the Iron Rain began. They were about to go up against the best killers of the Society with no protection. While the circumstances were completely different, he found himself reminded of Sendak's attack on the Castle of Lions. Not the details of the event, necessarily, but the emotions. The fear and desperation were uncomfortably familiar. Despite his months of experience fighting Zarkon's empire, his hands shook as he moved armor and weapons, strapping them to his body. The Howlers were terrified as well, their hands frenzied as they rubbed mud on their faces for camouflage. While all of this was happening, Sevro and Darrow conversed in private, although the Black Paladin was too far away to hear what was being said.

“On me!” Darrow finally shouted. With all but the lightest layer of armor shed, everyone set off silently, taking nothing with them from the ambush site but their razors and scarabSkin. They wore rubber-soled undershoes instead of armored gravBoots. The eight of them followed the river as they left the wall behind. Shiro panted heavily as he scrambled to keep up, sprinting through acres of grassy parks and woods separating the wall from the city as the high-tech war raged in the distance. Tree branches shuddered, and leaves fell as ships roared past overhead. To his right, ground trams shuttled troops to the battlefront. Explosions plumed in the distance as the group made their way into the Martian capital.

The Black Paladin struggled to keep up at the back of the pack as Darrow led their desperate sprint to the Sovereign's hiding place while explosions flashed inside the clouds beyond the shield. _If Mustang is still alive,_ Shiro thought to himself as he took a running leap over a fallen tree. _She should be nearing the shield generators by now._ Pain stabbed his sides as his muscled hungered for oxygen keeping up with Darrow's ragged pace. Shiro had taken half a pack of stims earlier to keep his energy up, but he still felt exhausted. Like Darrow, he welcomed the pain, because it kept him from thinking about the dead as he ran.

They didn't stop to rest when they reached the edge of the woods. Instead, they sprinted into the paved streets of the commercial district, cutting through buildings that tower over a kilometer up into the sky. They ran through the deserted lowDistricts of Agea, a bazaar where winding corridors lead the party through rough streets and walls stained by graffiti. Occasionally, a Brown, Pink, or Red would scuttle out of their way or peer at the from windows or alleys. Shiro was heartened to see graffiti of Darrow's late wife in the center of Gold's reign as they passed a massive painting of Eo, her hair stylized to resemble a blazing inferno. Sevro flew ahead with gravBoots to chart their path through the city.

For the second time that day, Shiro threw up, emptying the contents of his stomach into the streets as his muscles twitched and spasmed from the pain. There wasn't time to stop so he left a trail of vomit as he ran, the reek of bile following him during the mad sprint for the Citadel. Sevro flew back, gave them directions for them to avoid a platoon of Grays ahead, and took off again as the group followed his instructions. Suddenly, there was movement in the sky and Darrow allowed the strike team to slow to a jog, so they could watch. Shiro and Pebble collapsed onto the pavement, their chests heaving as they caught their breath. _When will this gorydamn day end?_ The Black Paladin thought to himself as his lungs sucked in as much oxygen as they could.

Up in the sky, but still beneath the shields, a horde of shuttles ferried soldiers from the south side of the wall, where Lorn was laying siege to the capital, towards the northern wall where Ragnar and his Obsidians had been dispatched. Dozens of shuttles filled with the Bellona's reserves emerged from the hangars and ports lacing the seven-kilometer high walls of the Valles Marineris to the east and west of the city. The team remained out of view from the enemy aircraft, but Shiro noticed the change in the air from the way their foes were acting. Something had happened at the north wall. Darrow helped Shiro to his feet, while Thistle assisted Pebble. With everyone set, they took off through the city once more.

Sevro rejoined them a few minutes later, his left arm hanging limply at his side. Shiro and Darrow eyed it worriedly, but the Howler ignored their concern.

“Ragnar opened the gorydamn gates,” he reported, his face splitting into a smile. “Twelve of them in the wall's face. Our boys are pouring in. And…” He trailed off as he stood there, grinning. _What exactly happened that has him so excited_? Shiro wonder to himself.

“And what?” Darrow asked.

“And Ragnar killed the Wind Knight and almost cut down Cassius,” Sevro finished, with an evil grin on his face. Almost immediately, a stunned silence fell over the group.

“An Olympic?” Clown gasped. Even Shiro was stunned at this pronouncement.

“Cut him down in front of the entire army,” Sevro explained. “The Obsidians in the army are going absolutely manic.” With the status update delivered, the lead Howler set off once more. They didn't get far before a squad of Gray policemen waylaid them. They all took cover as gunfire pockmarked the sidewalk. It took a few minutes before the party managed to divert into an alleyway to avoid them. Just four kilometers left to go, Shiro reminded himself as everyone stumbled coughing and gasping into the exterior fringes of the Citadel's grounds. The group paused to catch their breath, hiding in the trees like a ragged pack of castaway demons. As Shiro sucked in air like that one Robeast's vacuum-like weapon, he looked through the woods towards Mars' central government complex.

The Citadel was a network of white spires laced with red, still decorated with the lion statues of House Augustus even though the blue and silver banners of Bellona flapped in the breeze from atop a weathervane. The silver eagle of the enemy house looked so proud before Sevro waved down to them from the weathervane and cut one of the banners free with no resistance whatsoever. Clearly the Bellona never expected anyone to get this far, the Black Paladin remarked to himself as he observed their surroundings. Despite its beauty, the Citadel was a fortress that he knew they wouldn't want to tangle with. If they went searching from room to room, they'd be overwhelmed, pinned down, and killed.

The complex wasn't shielded, but Shiro knew from tactical briefings that a network of bunkers rested deep beneath the city. If the Sovereign stays in those bunkers, he thought to himself. This will turn into a siege. It'll take months before we dig her out, if we can do it at all. Which was why Darrow's plan hinged on giving Octavia an escape route. Mustang and Tactus needed to take down the shield at exactly the right time to flush the Sovereign out of hiding. The path inside the Citadel grounds was blocked by a decorative wall, shorter than the city's defensive barrier but still high enough to be a significant roadblock. If they had more gravBoots, getting over the wall would be as easy as a hop, skip, and a jump. But they only had one working pair. _Let's see how much I can lift_ , Shiro resolved as he made his way up to the front of the pack.

He moved past the Howlers to where Darrow was asking Sevro if the lead Howler's gravBoots had enough power to lift the rest of them over the wall one at a time. All around them, the grounds were silent. They crouched low in an abandoned park, surrounded by trees, fountains, and white marble patios where Golds and Silvers would have afternoon tea but now sat empty. It was eerily quiet in the eye of the storm. While Sevro lifted Darrow to the top of the wall, Shiro turned to face the Howlers his hands out in front of him, getting himself into a stance that would allow him to lift someone up like a cheerleader. Weed went first, taking a running jump and spring-boarding off Shiro's metal hand until he reached high enough for Darrow to pull him the rest of the way up the ten-meter wall.

Pebble was pulled up next. Then Thistle, Clown, and Screwface. Finally, it was Shiro's turn. Since he was the only one left, Sevro carried him up to the top on gravBoots. The two slowly floated upwards until they reached the top of the wall. But a moment later, Sevro's gravBoots sparked and whined, causing the duo to dip downward. With one last mechanical pop, the boots gave out, causing Sevro and Shiro to fall the rest of the way to the ground. Their attention was drawn elsewhere as a massive boom thundered across the city and smoke rose in the distance. Mustand had done it. Up above, the translucent shield separating the Martian capital from the battle above failed. The barrier wobbled and shattered into prismatic mist, the smooth shield fragmenting until it looked like a distorted version of Atlean particle barriers. Or at least, one eight of it shattered, sending a flood of pent-up rainwater falling on that section of the city in gigantic gray sheets.

“It didn't work!” Pebble cried out from the top of the wall. _Have a little faith_ , Shiro commented silently. _I trust Mustang and Tactus to get the job done right_. And sure enough, he was right. The nexuses maintaining the shield began to overload one by one, triggering a chain reaction as sheets of water from the storm finally rained down on Agea. If Roque was winning the battle in space, this was his cue to launch reinforcements. The city was as good as taken, and even now, the Sovereign would likely be extracted from the bunkers by her cadre of guards to escape the about-to-be-conquered planet. But the shuttle pads are still on the other side of the grounds, Shiro realized. Even at Darrow's pace, we'll never make it that far before she escapes. The Black Paladin looked up at Darrow to see if he had any ideas, but the young warlord was looking at Sevro with an expression that Shiro hadn't seen since Kieth and Allura had left the castle before their arrival on Taujeer.

“No, Darrow,” Sevro begged. “Think of your mission.” The leader of the Howlers jumped and clawed at the wall as Darrow turned away. Immediately, Shiro activated the energy weapon in his hand and began using it to try and melt a hole in the wall. “Don't do it, Darrow,” Sevro protested. “Wait! They'll kill you!” But it was too late, and the Reaper of Mars dropped over the other side of the wall, hitting the ground running as he landed in the gardens of the Citadel.

“DARROW!” Sevro screamed desperately. “STOP!” It was taking too long for Shiro to melt through, so before he knew what was happening, to him, Sevro grabbed him and lifted him up the wall until the Howlers pulled him to the top. As soon as the Black Paladin was up, the Howlers formed a human chain to bring their leader over the wall. By the time they dropped off on the other side, Darrow was already too far away and moving too fast for them to ever catch up.

“We have to go after him!” Sevro exclaimed, trying to rush after the Reaper. Shiro stepped in front of the Howler and held him back, putting his full weight behind him.

“We can't,” he said firmly. “We still have to finish the mission.” Once they'd gotten inside the city, the original plan had been for Sevro and the Howlers to break off from the group and infiltrate the Citadel to rescue the archGovernor.

“Slag the mission!” Sevro snapped. “Darrow's going to get himself killed!”

“If there's one thing I've learned about Darrow,” Shiro replied. “It's that he's too gorydamn stubborn to die. He'll find a way back. He always does.” At last, Sevro stopped struggling, and the Black Paladin relaxed his grip. “We'll never catch up to him anyway,” he went on. “And even if we could, everyone else is counting on us to rescue Augustus. If he dies, then all of our plans fall apart.” This finally got Sevro to calm down and focus. If the remaining Bellona loyalists killed the ArchGovernor before they could reach him, they would lose the support of many of the Golds would had allied themselves with his house, and the rest of the solar system would turn against the remaining Augustan loyalists to save their own skin. Even if Sevro disliked having to rescue the man, they still needed him to win the day.

“Let's get to it, then,” Sevro said as the group set off through the gardens into the Citadel complex. Lightning flashed as they made their way through the grounds towards the main building where they knew the ArchGovernor would be kept. With the Bellona caught off guard by their sudden infiltration, the team made it through the grounds and into the atrium of the main building before the enemy could regroup and shore up their defenses. Once they stepped into the atrium, Bellona Golds began to scramble into the room, trying in vain to drive out the invaders. Shiro spotted a lancer wearing the blue and silver eagle coming out of a side passage and charged away from the pack. He unsheathed the throwing knife he’d scavenged from the river and drove it into the Gold's neck as he dodged scorcher fire.

As hot red blood gushed from the woman's neck, Shiro wheeled around and hurled the knife at a lurcher charging towards him into the atrium. It hit home right between the man's eyes, killing him instantly. Fear, adrenalin, and guilt warred against each other in the Black Paladin's heart as he danced across the room, felling opponents left and right. From what he could remember, he hadn't been this brutal of a fighter since his days in the gladiator arena, and he wasn't proud to be slipping back into the mindset of The Champion again. He slit the throat of a Bellona lancer with a second dagger before he took the man's razor for himself.

Shiro wanted nothing more than to be back aboard the Castle with Kieth, Lance, Hunk, Pidge, Allura, and Coran. He was even starting to miss Slav's annoying comments about other realities. But as much as he wished that all of this was a bad dream and he'd wake up from a coma back in his own time and everything would be all right, he knew that was a pipe dream. He was on the surface of Mars fighting for his gorydamn life, and the only thing he could do was stay alive until his friends managed to find their way to the future and bring him home. He bit back a curse as a scorcher blast hit him in the leg. Weed killed the offending Gray with a stolen pulseFist before turning and offering the Black Paladin a hand up.

 _We won't last in here much longer_ , Shiro realized. They'd been pinned down in atrium by the chaos of the incursion and it was only a matter of time before the Bellona picked them off one by one. Without thinking, he picked up the scorcher off the dead legionnaire's body and opened fire on the Bellona forces. Most of the Golds managed to either dodge his shots or block with Aegises and pulseShields, but he was lucky enough that some of his shots caught a few Golds and most of the remaining Grays in the head or chest. With the tide turned, Sevro and the others managed to dispatch the remaining Bellona. The skirmish finally reached its end when Shiro activated the pulseShield in his arm to send a pulseFist blast ricocheting back at the lancer that had fired it.

Once they had managed to catch their breath, Shiro and the others went around the battlefield scavenging what they could from their fallen foes. As he finished helping Pebble into a suit of duroWeave armor, he spotted movement out of the corner of his eye. One of the Golds was stirring on the floor, and Shiro felt a wave of relief wash over him knowing that not all their opponents had been defeated lethally. But as the Aureate pushed himself up off the floor, the Black Paladin caught sight of an armed pulseGrenade in the man's hand. He followed the fallen Gold's line of sight towards where Sevro was standing with the rest of the Howlers, trying to use a stolen comm to contact Mustang or Roque for support. None of them could see the Bellona soldier as he pulled back his arm and lobbed the grenade into the air.

Without hesitation, Shiro leaped in front of Sevro and threw up his right arm, leaning his body forward to swat the grenade away. Inches from his outstretched hand, the explosive detonated. The flash of the explosion temporarily blinded him, and the shockwave muted most of his senses. For a brief instant, Shiro was weightless. There was no sight, save the flash of the pulseRocket. No sound, except for the ringing in his ears. No smell but for the acrid stench of smoke from the battle. No taste, save the tang of salty wind and oily metal in the air. No touch, except for the sensation of the hairs of his left arm standing up on end. Despite the circumstances around him, the moment was surprisingly tranquil. _This is what the Black Lion must feel flying through space_ , Shiro thought to himself. _No gravity_. _Only the stars for light. It feels so beautiful_.

And then it abruptly ended as he felt an agonizing pain in his right arm. It felt remarkably like the first time the energy weapon in his hand had activated. Only this time it was worse. So, so much worse. That time the pain had only hurt because of how sudden it had been, and it had been confined only to his hand. This was a searing fire that spread up his entire right arm, past where metal and flesh intersected and all the way up to his shoulder. He hadn't felt a pain of this magnitude since Haggar had taken his arm all those months ago. _No_ , Shiro thought frantically as realization hit him and he bit back a scream, only to fail as his lungs reflexively let out a wail of pain. _Please_ , _no_. _Not again_...

The pain made it hard to focus, but Shiro managed to fight through it as the blinding light of the pulseGrenade explosion faded from his vision. He furiously blinked the spots out of his eyes even as he fought to keep himself from passing out. As darkness crept at the edge of his vision, he looked at his mangled, bloody shoulder and followed the trail of blood, liquid quintessence, and human flesh until he saw his right arm lying on the scorched marble of the atrium three feet away. Blood pooled around his body from the wound as he tried to keep himself awake. But he quickly lost that battle. The last things he saw and heard before he lost consciousness was Sevro gunning down the Gold who'd thrown the grenade while the other Howlers screamed into the com for a Yellow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Terminology:**  
>  **-recoilPlate:** A type of medium strength armor typically worn under starShells.  
>  **-scarabSkin:** Basic body armor for soldiers, but weaker than recoilPlates or pulseArmor.  
>  **-lurchers:** Grays who work as contracted mercenaries.


	33. The Sea

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2/11/18: Rewrote this chapter entirely for Shiro and Tactus to talk about the kiss from a few chapters ago.

#### Caragmore

#### Mars

#### February 28th, 2841

Shiro's mind only perceived darkness around him as he slowly regained awareness. _Feels like that time I got beat up by Sendak,_ he thought to himself as he gradually drifted back to consciousness. _How long have I been out?_ He shuddered as he flashed back to the battle and losing his arm for the second time. While he'd been unsettled by having to constantly wear a reminder of his time as a prisoner of Zarkon's empire, he'd gotten used to it. And now it was gone, just like that. But as he looked at what he could have done differently, he ultimately realized that nothing would have changed. Even if his hand hadn't been inches from a pulseGrenade, something would surely have come along where he'd have to protect his friends at the cost of a limb.

Shiro gasped as his eyes popped open and he shot up in bed. He whirled around on instinct, hands reaching for the nearest weapon he could find without thinking. The last thing he remembered was fighting for his life on the battlefield, and as far as his mind was concerned, he was still there. He picked up what felt like a scalpel in his right hand as a firm hand gripped his wrist and shoulder. A familiar voice managed to penetrate the fog. _Tactus’ voice,_ he realized as he registered what his friend was saying.

“It’s all right, Takashi,” the Gold soothed, using Shiro’s first name as a gesture of comfort. “You’re safe now. It’s all right.” Shiro blinked, his mind finally registering that he was no longer on the battlefield. Instead, he was lying in a hospital bed a small, sparse room. He could smell the breeze through the window, and remembered what Mustang had told him about Caragmore, her late mother’s estate, given to the woman by the ArchGovernor as a wedding present.

“Where are we?” Shiro asked as his breathing slowed and his heartbeat began decelerating to a normal rate.

“Caragmore,” Tactus confirmed. “Mustang wanted you and Darrow to recover somewhere away from all the politics in Agea.”

“So, we won,” he replied, seeking confirmation that the battle was over for now. Tactus saw the fear in his eyes and nodded.

“We won,” the man answered. As he did, Shiro realized that his fingers were still closed around the scalpel. It was starting to feel surprisingly heavy in his right hand, and there was something in the back of his mind telling him something was off, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. He turned his head examine the scalpel and his jaw dropped.

Shiro was speecheless as he looked down at his right arm and saw not metal, but genuine human skin. The scalpel clattered to the ground as he stared at the new appendage in shock. He clenched his fist and testedhis range of motion in every way he possibly could, even slapping himself in the face with his right hand just to make sure that he wasn't dreaming or hallucinating. Once he'd finally convinced himself that this wasn't a blood loss-induced fever dream, he looked at Tactus, shock evident on his face as tears welled up in his eyes.

“The ArchGovernor’s idea,” Tactus explained. “Belated repayment for assisting in the escape from Luna. Mustang oversaw everything personally and made sure that the Yellow and Violet who’d helped you blend in on Luna were the only ones operating on you. This is just a regular arm. No hidden weapons, no reinforced bones, just a plain old preColor limb. Grown from your own cells.”

Tears welled up in Shiro’s eyes as he looked at his new right arm. He had always hated the mechanical one as a reminder of the things the Galra did to him. No matter what he did, he could never not be reminded of how far he was from home and that he’d been forced to kill people to survive in Galran hands. Slav’s comment about how much more effective of a fighter he’d be with two cybernetic hands grated on him because the he things he’s associated with on the team – his arm, his hair, his scar – were things that the Galra did to him, not things that were actually him. Despite his earlier wish to remain physically unchanged when he finally returned to his own era, knowing that his permanent reminder of the trauma of the gladiator arena was gone was such a tremendous weight off his chest that the floodgates opened, and he started to cry. He might never be able to hide his hair or his scar, but his biggest shackle was gone.

            Clearly sensing how overwhelmed he was, Tactus sat down on the bed and pulled Shiro into a hug. No words needed to be said. Tactus simply sat there in silence and gave Shiro a shoulder to cry on. The time traveler was overcome with a flood of emotions as he took in the fact that his days as a human weapon were truly over.

Once he’d gotten everything out of his system, Tactus climbed off the bed and retrieved a set of small weights. It would take a couple of weeks’ worth of physical therapy to get the muscles in his new arm synchronized with the rest of him.

The ArchGovernor was alive. When the shields fell, several Golds already inside the Citadel led one of the Jackal’s lurcher squads to rescue the man. When the Olympic Knights came to take him with Octavia, they left empty handed. Imperator Bellona was killed by the Telemanuses. All Cassius’s brothers and sisters were reported dead, but his mother and Cassius himself were missing. The HC Channels were calling Roque ‘Nelson reincarnate’, hailing him as one of the heroes of the battle. The Imperator had captured more than eighty percent of the Bellona fleet. As leader of the engagement, that gave him claim to at least a third of the ships, with the rest going to House Augustus. To create tension among the Reaper’s inner circle, the Jackal’s paid media stooges were feeding speculation about how long Roque’s loyalty would last. 

Meanwhile, Darrow had managed to reach the landing pad and scramble aboard Octavia's shuttle before it took off. But despite managing to kill Karnus au Bellona, he’d ended up trapped aboard the Sovereign's ship with no weapons and no escape. Fitchner, Sevro's father and the current Rage Knight, had been ordered to execute Darrow on a system-wide broadcast, only to betray the Sovereign and escape the ship with the young warlord in tow. Darrow revealed that before he lost consciousness, Fitchner had revealed his identity as none other than Ares himself. Shiro let out a low whistle in surprise when Tactus revealed that Sevro had confirmed his father’s identity as none other than Ares himself.  The time traveler was stunned at how thoroughly the revolutionary had fooled everyone. No Gold would ever suspect that one of their own would be running a lowColor resistance movement.

“Anyway, Roque, Quinn, Victra, and Sevro have been in here constantly while you and Darrow recover,” Tactus finished. “The Jackal tried to crash the party a few times, but I kept him out for the sake of your secret.”

“And Lorn?” Shiro asked. Now that there wasn't the immediate threat of dying in battle hanging over their heads, he was eager to spend more time with Hunk's descendant. There were so many questions he wanted to ask the old Rage Knight.

“He's with our darling friend Victra,” Tactus answered sardonically. “Lorn’s taken her under his wing. Seems he's comfortable allying his family with the Julii. Victra's mother has agreed to the pact. Three of the most powerful houses on Mars united under the family Augustus. A triumvirate against the Sovereign. The Governors of the Gas Giants are on their way to Agea for a summit. So too are the Reformers. Reaper was right. We take Mars, we have a chance against Octavia. This isn't just a battle any longer. It's a civil war. The ArchGovernor is making talk of giving the Reformers a chance at the table, which will be a tremendous help for Darrow’s mission.”

“And you believe him?” Shiro asked. _The ArchGovernor doesn't seem like the type to change so easily_ , he thought to himself.

“Goryhell no”, Tactus spat with an amused chuckle. “I’ve heard more convincing lies from Tharsus and Appolonius.” Shiro laughed at that, glad to see that the others hadn’t fallen for Augustus’ obviously fake change of heart. As the laughter died down, Tactus finished getting him caught up on everything else he’d missed while he was recovering from the surgery. As they talked, Shiro remembered the kiss Tactus gave him before heading off to battle. His cheeks flushed at the memory, and the tension rose exponentially.

“I guess we should finally talk about what happened before the battle,” Shiro finally said, breaking the awkward silence. He laughed. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised we ended up falling for each other.”

“Who says I fell for you?” Tactus retorted. But it was an empty gesture. They both knew Tactus was just being coy.

“Come on, Tactus,” Shiro replied. “You haven’t even looked at a Pink since you came aboard on Europa. Then you kiss me on the lips right before a battle and expect me to believe you didn’t have a crush on me like you did with Darrow?”

            “Fair enough,” Tactus admitted with a chuckle. “It’s funny. Roque always told me at the Academy that one day I’d find someone who made me laugh at the person I used to be, and then I’d somehow learn there are more important things than drugs and Pinks. I kept telling him that sounded resolutely miserable, and then you came along and proved him right.” Shiro got a warm feeling in his gut.

            “Are you sure you want to come eight-hundred four years back in time with me?” he asked.

“Why wouldn’t I?” Tactus asked teasingly. “I’ve already packed a travel bag and everything.” Shiro wasn’t sure whether Tactus was being sarcastic or not with that last comment.

“I don’t want to force you to choose between me and your life here,” he said. “What right do I have to separate you from our friends for the rest of our lives?”

“I know the consequences of that,” Tactus replied. “And I’m willing to make that sacrifice. There’s very little left for me in this era. Victra and the others are more sociable around me, but I don’t think I’ll ever be able to shake the edge in our conversations every time we go out together. We may be on friendly terms again, but it’ll take some time and distance before they’ll ever fully forgive me. Darrow’s still worth following, but I don’t think there’d be a place for someone like me in the world he’s trying to build.”

Shiro sighed. It wasn’t that he didn’t like the idea of Tactus come back to the past with him. He did. He wanted Tactus to come with him. But he also knew it was Tactus’ choice. And it sounded like Tactus’ mind was already made up.

“Alright,” he replied as he leaned over and kissed Tactus back. “But once we’re back on the Castle of Lions, you’ve got to keep all your booze and demonDust away from the common area. I don’t want half my team in a drugged stupor because your stash leaked into the food.”

“Awww,” Tactus pouted jokingly.

“Hey,” Shiro said with a knowing grin. “I’m already fighting a war for the fate of the universe to make sure the gens Rath survives long enough for you to be born, I don’t want you to paradox yourself out of existence because my team got blown up flying while high.”

“I know, I know,” Tactus replied with a smile as he climbed up from the chair onto the bed. “I can manage, just as long as I can still lounge around shirtless when there’s nobody to fight.”

“Keep your pants on outside the bedroom and you’ve got a deal,” Shiro commented teasingly.

“Fair enough,” Tactus laughed as he leaned his head against the older man’s shoulder.  As the two men cuddled together on the hospital bed, Shiro reflected that, as bizarre as it was, this relationship could work.


	34. The Poet

#### Caragmore

#### Mars

#### March 1st, 2841

“You guys didn’t all have to come at once, you know,” Shiro commented sarcastically as nearly the entirety of Darrow’s inner circle crowded into his room the following evening. With Roque, Quinn, Victra, Tactus, and Daxo crammed into one tiny room, there wasn’t a lot of room for the Black Paladin to maneuver. Darrow was still unconscious recovering from the injuries he sustained facing Karnus the previous week. Mustang was by his bedside, having returned from visiting Kavax in orbit last night along with Daxo. Sevro had left with his father after dinner, likely to discuss the latter’s role as leader of the Sons of Ares. Theodora was busy working on measurements and logistics for the Triumph that would be held when the ruling families of the gas giants arrived in two weeks. Orion was overseeing the fleet in orbit, while Ragnar stood guard outside Darrow’s door. That left everyone else in the know about Darrow’s mission to sit down and discuss what the Reaper’s next move would be. Everyone had given Shiro an extra day of peace and quiet while he recovered, but now it was time to get down to business.

“Of course, we did,” Roque commented with a chuckle as he reached into his pocket. Shiro hear the now familiar pop of an active jamField and nodded in understanding. It was safe to talk openly.

 “So, what now?” he asked. Darrow had admitted after calling for an Iron Rain that he'd primarily been making things up as he went along to sow chaos and weaken Gold's rule. The Sons of Ares hadn't given him specific instructions beyond “win at the Institute” and “obtain command of a fleet”. They'd only contacted the Reaper on Luna after the Gala to relay a message about his plans to instigate the war between Augustus and Bellona, but he hadn't heard from them since. Now that they all knew the identity of Ares, that would hopefully change.

“We have two weeks before the Triumph, so provided Darrow is awake by tomorrow, that gives us two weeks to help him figure out what to do next” Victra remarked “Sevro’s working on arranging a meeting with his father so we can figure out what comes next. Whatever it is the Sons of Ares want Darrow to accomplish, the war won't end just because we've taken Mars. Octavia will continue to attack as long as she lives.”

“Even if we kill her,” Daxo added. “Augustus will simply rise up to take her place. And we all know that he will never truly support the reformers. He simply made whatever promises were necessary to gain their support. All we'd accomplish would be trading one tyrant for another with no real change in the hierarchy. If Augustus makes Darrow his heir like the rumors are suggesting, we'll all have to be even more careful to stay alive.” Shiro's eyes widened as Daxo's comment started a chain reaction in his mind. _I can't believe it,_ he thought to himself as the epiphany began to take shape. _This must be what Ares wanted for Darrow from the beginning. This is how he'll save his people._

“What if that's Ares' plan, though,” Shiro suggested. All eyes turned to him, expecting an explanation. After taking a moment to think through all his points, he continued. “Think about it,” he went on. “Augustus is going to make Darrow his heir and use him as a Praetor in the armada. Once we defeat the Sovereign, Darrow will be next in line to inherit the empire. All the Sons would need to do is assassinate Augustus a year or two into his reign, pin it on a rival, and Darrow becomes ruler of the entire Society.” A stunned silence settled over the room as the five Golds processed the ramifications of what Shiro was suggesting.

“That's…” Roque began, at a loss for words. Shiro knew the poet had accepted the reality of what Darrow's goal was, but he was clearly staggered by the implications of what the Reaper's inner circle was going to have to do to help their friend succeed. Shiro could tell Roque didn't doubt his loyalty or his decision, but realizing just how far things were going to go would take time for the younger man to come to terms with.

“Honestly,” Victra chimed in. “Strategically speaking, it's gorydamn brilliant. It positions Darrow to ensure a stable transition to a more equal society instead of violently tearing everything down to remove Gold from power. But even if that is what Sevro's father wants for him, it won't work. The minute the major Gold Houses learn what Darrow really is, they will turn on him and try to take the office of Sovereign for themselves. They'll never accept his authority once they realize he was a Red. It will have to be a “true” Gold for them to accept the dismantling of the hierarchy without resistance. Personally, I'd bet on Mustang. She'll have the support of her father's bannermen, the Reformers in the senate, and Darrow will bring the Sons of Ares to the table. With her in charge, Gold will have no choice but to recognize her authority. The hold outs who refuse will be removed from power and imprisoned.”

Shiro was cautious about the idea, knowing that the lowColors would not be satisfied until one of their own was in charge. But he also recognized that Victra had a point. For the transfer of power to be peaceful, it needed to be handled by someone who could command respect from both sides, and Mustang would be able to do just that. Everyone agreed to run the plan by Darrow once the man woke up, and with no further points left to discuss, the group went their separate ways. Roque deactivated the jamField as the Golds filed out of the room, leaving Tactus and Shiro alone in the medical wing of the Augustan estate.

“Are there any empty guestrooms?” Shiro asked as he worked through his arm-strengthening exercises. “I had my fill of hospital rooms while I was with Mustang on Luna.”

“I don’t know about rooms,” Tactus answered. “But my bed’s big enough for two.” The two men chuckled at that, and Shiro agreed as his lover helped him out of bed. The Black Paladin’s legs were still a little stiff after six days of inactivity, so Tactus helped keep him steady as they limped towards the latter’s bedroom. While Tactus cleaned up the room, Shiro decided to take a shower. The warm water washing over his skin was comforting after lying in an uncomfortable hospital bed for most of the day.

As he finished drying off, Shiro looked in the mirror and noticed that his natural hair color was starting to show through the gold hair dye. At the sight of his dark hair, tears welled up in his eyes as he thought about how worried his team was back in the past. He'd been trapped in this era for about six months now, and there was still no sign of a way home. He knew thanks to Lorn that he would make it back eventually, but he hadn’t had a chance to ask the ex-Rage Knight how long that would take. He could imagine what the rest of the team was going through, but the one he was worried about the most was Keith. He'd seen Keith's trials at the Blade of Marmora's base. Witnessed his friend's fears and seen how much the Red Paladin looked up to him and needed him in his life. He hadn't brought up the subject of Keith leading the team if he died after that, but while they'd talked about it afterwards, he couldn't imagine how terrified Keith was knowing that his greatest fear had been realized.

He wiped his eyes as he finished drying off and got dressed. He wished he could reach back across the flow of time and tell Keith that he was alright, but there was nothing he could do. While he was making a difference in this era helping to bring down Gold, he felt helpless as he waited for his friends to figure out that he was alive and find a way to time travel so he could go home. Once he was in his pajamas he walked out of the extravagantly oversized bathroom into Tactus’ bedroom. The man took one look at the remnants of the tears on his face and pulled him in for a hug, pausing only long enough to climb into bed.

Now that they were officially in a relationship, an outside observer would think they’d get right to having sex. But the two of them had that conversation earlier that morning. And after years of being conditioned to see sex as a tool of domination, now that he was in a serious relationship, Tactus wanted to take things slow. And that was fine with Shiro.  

The next morning, they joined the other Golds in the Citadel's library where everyone sat around with their breakfast bantering with each other. Everyone smirked in unison as they walked into the room arm in arm. Then things escalated when Daxo told Roque that the poet didn't have what it took to tell jokes.

“What do you mean I can't be funny?” Roque asked, offended.

“Just that,” Daxo answered smoothly. “I'm sure you can try, but you're too… scholastic.”

“Fine then," Roque retaliated. "Who was the first carpenter?”

“Is this a joke?” Daxo asked. Shiro groaned. _I can see where this is going,_ he thought to himself with a dry chuckle.

“It's intended to be,” Roque replied.

“Jesus of Nazareth…?” Daxo guessed. “It is a history joke, yes?”

“Noah?” Pebble offered.

“Jesus of Nazareth?” Roque laughed. “You can do better than that.” Shiro bit back a chuckle as he realized the answer.

“If I knew I'd be mocked for guessing,” Daxo commented. “I wouldn't have guessed.”

“Pax said you were the smart one,” Thistle said. “Disappointing, Daxo. Disappointing.”

“Well in comparison,” Clown began. “He probably…” Pebble smacked him upside the head, cutting him off.

“Don't talk shit about Pax,” she snapped. “Big man was a sweetie.”

“Does no one care about the answer?” Roque asked melodically. “Fine. Fine. I understand. You all think I'm a bore.”

“Eve,” Shiro finally blurted out. “It's Eve.” Roque grinned, glad that someone had finally gotten the joke.

“Eve?” Daxo asked, confused.

“Because,” Roque explained. “She made Adam's banana stand.” Everyone moaned, embarrassed by their friend's poor attempt at humor. Quinn was the only one who found her boyfriend's joke even remotely funny.

“Ha,” Tactus laughed, not so much at the joke itself so much as the choice of subject matter. “I finally corrupted you. A year together at the academy and you couldn’t even listen to my lewd jokes without going as red a Ruster’s eyes. Now we’ve both moved on and you’re making… what did they call them on Old Earth? Oh, yes. You’re making dick jokes without so much as changing a shade.” Shiro chuckled at his boyfriend’s amusement, even if Roque’s attempt at a sex joke wasn’t particularly good. _Even Lance could have done better than that,_ he thought to himself with an internal groan.

“That's just embarrassing,” Pebble sighed. At least Daxo seemed to find it funny, if the high-pitched, whining laughter that threatened to deafen Shiro in one ear was any indication.

“I think he broke Daxo,” Pebble giggled. Suddenly, Clown perked up.

“Does anyone smell that?” she asked.

“I smell Bacon,” Daxo guessed as he bit into a piece.

“I don't think she meant the food, Daxo,” Shiro commented dryly.

“No,” Clown said. “Smells like a suicidal madman recently risen from the dead after conquering a planet and abandoning his friends to get himself cut to gory ribbons like a slagging fool.”

“That’s oddly specific,” Shiro added with a laugh as Daxo sniffed the air.

“Oh, Darrow dear,” Clown called out. “Are you lurking behind the door?” On cue, Darrow stumbled awkwardly into the room, followed closely by Mustang, who everyone could tell had pushed him out of his hiding place.

“You eavesdropping Pixie!” Daxo boomed mirthfully as he glided to his feet and pulled the Reaper into a surprisingly gentle hug. The golden angels on the young Telemanus’ head glittered in the morning light streaming through the window. The rest of the group took their turns greeting Darrow with hugs and bantered while Darrow and Mustang gorged themselves on breakfast. It would be another two weeks before preparations for the Triumph were complete, so the ragtag group spent the day on grounds of the estate, whiling away the time playing games and discussing everything from the events of the battle to the coming war.

As the sun began to dip below the horizon, Shiro informed Darrow and Mustang about the hypothesis that he, Victra, Tactus, Quinn, Roque, and Daxo had developed before he headed off to bed. He was just crossing the entrance hall towards his suite when Sevro came charging in with news from his father that Darrow's contacts in the Sons of Ares had been captured by the Jackal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Terminology:**  
>  **-Triumph:** Victory celebration held after a major military battle.


	35. Brotherhood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2/18/18: Minor modifications to accommodate plot changes and fix grammar errors.

#### Agea

#### Mars

#### March 3rd, 2841

Shiro tried to stop himself from fidgeting as he stood facing the leader of the Sons of Ares in the back of the warehouse that the resistance group had converted into a base. Sevro and Darrow were on their way back from rescuing Harmony, Mickey, and Evey from the Jackal's citadel in Attica, and Shiro had volunteered to stay behind with the Sons of Ares to keep Mustang and the others updated on the situation as it unfolded. Darrow's plan had gone off without a hitch. Darrow and Victra went to Adrius' new home to break off their respective alliances with him. While they were inside, the Sons of Ares, led by Sevro, launched a guerilla attack on the fortress, taking over the mainframe long enough to get the prisoners and get out. After that, money transferred into the accounts of his chief of security, a Gray woman named Sun-hwa, provided a convenient scapegoat.

“So,” Fitchner began. “You're a time traveler.” Shiro sighed. There was no way to avoid this conversation. Sevro and Darrow had both vouched for him, but to prove himself to the Sons of Ares, they'd had to tell Fitchner the truth of what he really was. The revolutionary leader had originally planned to accompany his son and the rest of the strike team to rescue Harmony's splinter faction from the Jackal's clutches, but after hearing from his son where "Shiro au Terranova" really came from, he had elected to stay behind at the main base and assess whether the twenty-year old could be trusted.

“I am,” Shiro replied nervously. "I know I have no way to prove it, but I swear it's true. I'm not a spy, or crazy, or –."

“I don't need any gorydamn proof," Fitchner interrupted. “My wife had stories of the Paladins of Voltron passed down through her family for generations. She'd had a photo album that had been in her family for centuries back when she was still alive.” _She must have been a lowColor then,_ Shiro theorized. _That's the only reason I can think of that Fitchner would become Ares._ But when he realized that Sevro was descended from one of his friends, he let out a hysterical laugh.

“It looks like Lorn au Arcos isn't the only one who had Paladin genes," he said as he finally stopped laughing. _What are the odds that our descendants are still running around even to this day?_ He wondered with a small smirk. _I think I know who Sevro's a descendant of._ After that brief bit of levity, he and Fitchner discussed more pertinent topics. Fitchner couldn’t make any promises about being able to spare the resources to get him home while they were in the middle of a war on multiple fronts, but the man was grateful for the Black Paladin’s offer of help in the rebellion.

An hour later, they were informed that Darrow's group had arrived, and the two men headed up to meet them. They walked downstairs into a garage that had been converted into a makeshift office to find Darrow amid a tearful reunion with Dancer, Fitchner's lieutenant, and Mickey, the Carver who had made the Reaper from a Red into a Gold. Sevro lurked in the corner behind an engine block, while Victra was nowhere to be seen. _They probably figured it would be more productive if it was just Darrow and Sevro this time,_ Shiro surmised as he into the room and stood between Darrow and Sevro.

After Mickey walked out of the office, Darrow demanded that Fitchner lay all his cards on the table. When asked why Darrow had been kept in the dark about Ares' identity for so long, Fitchner answered that it was idiotic to put his life in the hands of a teenager's acting ability. Shiro chuckled at that, knowing that Lance wouldn't have been able to keep a secret of that magnitude for more than a day. Besides, Fitchner had argued, Darrow wasn't the only iron he'd had in the proverbial fire, and he couldn't be biased, even if Darrow was his favorite. After his frustration with being kept in the dark had been satisfied, Darrow asked about Fitchner's wife. After confirming that Darrow wanted the full version of the story, Ares began his tragic tale.

Fitchner had been liaising for a terraforming company on Triton when they first met. He was running one of the last Lovelock Engines on the moon's north pole when an eruption from one of the moon's geysers caused an earthquake. The ice crust cracked and spilled the whole engine into the subterranean sea. Three thousand souls drowned. Fitchner had been fished out of the sea and spent the next months recovering in an arctic hospital. "He had been in the highColor wing, which had good food, better showers, newer beds, and other luxuries. The lowColors had access to none of those amenities, but the one luxury they'd had was the window that had overlooked the northern lights. And the room Sevro's mother had been in was the one that turned out to have the best view.

Her name was Bryn. She'd lost a leg in the accident, and the Yellows weren't going to give her a new one. It would have been easy to just give her a bionic leg and let her get back to work, but according to the Coppers, it "wasn't cost effective.” So Fitchner brought her with him when he'd saved up enough money to leave Triton. It was too expensive for them to live in the Core worlds – Mercury, Venus, Earth, and Luna – so they'd settled on Mars, settling just outside of New Thebes. Fitchner and Bryn had wanted a child more than anything, but thanks to centuries of genetic tampering, their DNA wasn't compatible. So, they'd gone to a Carver to see if they couldn't make some magic, and they had. It had cost almost everything Fitchner owned, but nine months later, Sevro had squirmed out into the world.

Two years after Sevro was born, the Board of Quality Control arrested the Carver for some illegal work he'd done on an Obsidian gladiator, and the man had quickly ratted the couple out in exchange for a reduced sentence. They'd come to the Barca home while Fitchner and Sevro were away, found Bryn, and took her in for questioning. When they saw that her fallopian tubes had been modified so that she would be compatible to sire a Gold child, they disposed of her. They gassed her with Achlys-9, put her in an over, and pumped her ashes into the sea. They'd never even referred to her by name in the records. Only by a number. Not because she was a thief or murderer or had violated anyone's rights, but because she'd been a Red who'd dared to love a Gold.

Fitchner's experience hadn't been like Darrow's, the man had explained. He hadn't watched his wife die. He hadn't seen Golds come into his world and ruin it, the way Darrow had. Instead, he'd felt the coldness of the system swallow the only thing he'd ever lived for. It had happened emotionlessly. A copper pressing buttons and filling out a spreadsheet. A Brown twisting a knob to release the gas. They'd killed his wife, but they wouldn't ever think so. Bryn hadn't been a memory in their minds, only a statistic. It was as if she'd never existed. Some ghost Fitchner had loved but no one else had ever seen. That was what society did, the haggard man had said. Spread the blame around so that there was no villain, and so it was futile to even begin to find one. It was all just machinery and processes, rumbling inexorably on till a whole generation rose to throw themselves on the gears.

“So,” Darrow said to Sevro once the story was done and they had learned the name of Fitchner's wife. "You're half Red."

“Found out couple days ago,” Sevro confirmed with a nod. “Weird as shit, righto?”

“Weird as shit,” Darrow replied with a chuckle. “You'll make a good Ruster.”

“I like to think I'm an endangered species,” Sevro commented. Shiro couldn't help but laugh at the comparison.

“We all are,” Dancer added as the old Red rolled a match through his fingers. That brought the playful banter to an end and the topic of conversation turned back to more serious subjects.

Darrow had revealed to his inner circle that Titus, a Gold from House Mars at the Institute who'd gained infamy for his brutal tactics and serial raping of his classmates, had turned out to be another Sons of Ares plant, only he'd been broken and been more concerned with cathartic revenge than with long term planning. As he'd suspected, Fitchner had known about Titus all along, but he was grateful that Dancer had been ignorant of that fact. He'd have been upset if his mentor had known that Darrow wasn't the only Red sent to infiltrate Gold. But Fitchner's reason for keeping him in the dark did make sense. Titus' mind had broken under the strain of maintaining his cover, and he'd spiraled down the path of decadence and brutality that had led to his demise.

If Darrow had known, then he would have been responsible for Titus' mistakes and vice versa. Shiro decided that he was going to have to borrow Fitchner's "You don't tie two boats together during a storm" line someday. But as Darrow pointed out, his mind had broken as well. He was just lucky enough to have people to help put him back together again and keep him grounded.

“I always knew a Gold couldn't lead this rebellion," Fitchner went on. "It has to be from the bottom up, boyo. Red is about family. More than any other Color, it is about love amid all the horror of our world. If Red rises, they have a chance to bind the worlds together. MidColors won't. Pinks, Browns, can't. Obsidians have failed before. And if they succeeded alone, they'd break the worlds instead of freeing them."

"Well, I've squabbed up your position next to the Sovereign," Darrow commented before gesturing to Shiro and Sevro. "We think we've guessed the plan, but tell us if we're wrong. Augustus is going to adopt me as his heir. Use me as a praetor in his armada."

"Righto," Dancer replied with a nod.

"And if we defeat the Sovereign," Shiro added. "He won't settle for being King of Mars. He'll want to be Sovereign. So, we help him take the Morning Throne."

"You're right so far," Fitchner answered.

"Then a year or two into his reign," Sevro piped in. "We kill him and pin it on a rival. Then, Darrow inherits the empire."

"Bloodydamn," Dancer breathed, impressed. "You actually figured it out."

"It was a group effort," Darrow replied humbly. "I barely contributed anything to the discussion."

"Regardless of how you figured it out, you did," Fitchner said after he regained his composure. "So, after Augustus dies, all will look to the strongest. Be the strongest. Win the game of succession and you can be Sovereign just as you were Primus. Just as you are Praetor. It's all games. Except this time, we're helping you cheat. We will feed you information, guard you against assassination attempts. With me on your side, you will have a spy network even the Jackal and the Sovereign cannot rival. We will bribe who we need to bribe. Kill who we need to kill."

"Does that Jackal care about that?" Sevro asked. "Seems like he's abandoned the hope of ever gaining his father's approval. Bloody bastard's building his own empire."

"We'll have to wait and see," Darrow said. _And we'll have to be on guard for him to try and stab us in the back for his own personal gain,_ Shiro thought to himself, putting mental words to what the Reaper had left unsaid.

"I won't be in the dark again," Darrow demanded. "We will communicate. We will plan. No more gray areas. Do you understand? I can't be alone like before."

"Say yes Fitchner," Sevro added. "Or I'm not going either."

"We'll communicate every day, if you need," Fitchner promised. "I can't come with you though. There's a ghost war being fought that I have to manage. But in my stead, I'll send my best agents. You'll have a cabal you can trust. Spies. Assassins. Courtesans. Hackers. All with perfect covers. All willing to die to break the chains. You are no longer alone." Darrow sighed in relief, and even Shiro released the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. Now that he'd finally contacted the Sons of Ares and would be more actively involved in toppling the hierarchy, he didn't feel as helpless as he had when he'd first arrived.

"I have to go back," Darrow said. The Black Paladin snapped out of his thoughts at the sound of his friend's voice.

"Yes," Fitchner agreed. "They'll be wondering where you are."

"No," Darrow replied. "I have to go home."

"Home?" Dancer asked. "To Lykos?" Darrow nodded his head, and Shiro figured it out a second later. _Of course,_ the Black Paladin realized. _Before he lets Augustus adopt him as his heir, he wants to see his family again and remind himself why he's doing all of this._

"Why?" Fitchner demanded, confused. "What's left for you there?"

"My family," Darrow snapped, clearly frustrated after being kept in the dark for so long. "It's been four years. I need to see them before this begins. You have to understand that. Things are about to break in ways we can't predict. We pretend we know what we're doing, pushing these Golds to war. Planning our own. Like we can control it. But we can't. We're just mortals opening Pandora's box. And before everything turns upside down, I need to remember what I'm fighting for. I need to know it's worth it."

"You want their blessing," Dancer said with a nod of understanding. "Her blessing."

"You can't tell them what you are," Fitchner remarked cautiously, wary of the Reaper's temper. "They won't understand. You know that." _If he tried to tell his family who he really is, they'd probably look at him like he was crazy,_ Shiro thought sadly as he realized what Fitchner was saying. _Doesn't mean he can at least try to talk to them though._

"How much easier would this have all been if you and I had conspired the whole way through?" Darrow asked. "Lies breed lies. We have to trust." He paused as he looked over at Shiro and Sevro. "I'm taking her to Lykos."

"Her?" Dancer asked.

"Mustang," Shiro and Sevro replied, almost in unison.

"No!" Fitchner nearly yelled. "Absolutely not! No. It's not worth the risk. You're set up now. She's in love with you! Don't lose that leverage because of a guilty conscience."

"And what if I love her too?" Darrow asked rhetorically.

"Shit," Fitchner cursed. "Shit. Shit. Shit. You're serious? I thought this was part of your gorydamn game. Shit. Boyo, you'll ruin everything. Gorydamn idiot. Shit."

"This is everything," Darrow replied. "She loves me. On her own she figured out what I am and still she chose me over Gold. Without her, Gold can't change, and Titus and Harmony were right. Hell, the Society is right. You and I know that it's not about our Color. It's about our hearts. She's proof of that. And it's not just the war that I want my family's blessing for." Shiro's eyes widened as he recognized what Darrow had just implied. _About gorydamn time,_ he thought to himself.

"Congratulations, Darrow," Shiro remarked with a smirk as he put a supportive hand on the Reaper's shoulder. "I'm happy for both of you."

"You've got to be gorydamn kidding me," Fitchner cursed again as he put his head in his hand. "Just when I thought everything was going as planned, you pull the damn rug out from under me, boyo. Shit. She really figured it out?"

"It's partly my fault on that front," Shiro interjected. "When she fabricated my backstory to help me blend in among the Sovereign's court, she used the exact same methods you did for Darrow's fake family history. A minor, obscure Golden House with no children that Gold culture knew of that lived far enough away from the political spheres of influence that an heir kept hidden from the public eye wouldn't be implausible. Once she noticed the similarities in my fake background and Darrow's, then she started to put the pieces together." Fitchner sighed in frustration as he crossed his arms.

"And you're absolutely certain that she won't betray you later when it's convenient for her? Darrow, how can you be sure that she hasn't already told her father the truth?"

"Fitchner," Darrow replied. "I fought beside Mustang at the Institute. She was the one who came up with the strategy that allowed us to win. For two years, I have seen her criticize and condemn the very system she was raised to uphold. I wouldn't be alive if it weren't for her, and after all this time, I know Virginia au Augustus well enough to know where her loyalties lie. She's with us. Heart and mind."

"That and she kept me alive even thought she could have just let the Board of Quality Control dissect me," Shiro added snarkily. "So, there's that." He bit back a comment about how Victra, Roque, Quinn, Tactus, Ragnar and the Telemanuses had been brought into the fold as well. _One Mars-shattering revelation at a time,_ he reminded himself. _Let them warm up to having Mustang on our side before we drop that bombshell on them._

"Gorydamn it," Fitchner remarked with another resigned sigh. "Alright. Fine," he went on. "If you think she can be trusted, then go on right ahead. But I will be saying I told you so if she turns us over to her father. Since you're all here, we might as well get some things over with and introduce you to one of my top operatives. I can't be everywhere at once, so he'll be your primary contact with the Sons." Dancer left the room for a few minutes and came back with an older model dataPad, the kind that were too big to be mounted on a person's forearm. Fitchner set up a comm channel and went through every hoop he could to ensure that it was as encrypted as possible. After a few minutes of tinkering, a holographic face appeared in the air above the dataPad.

"Holy bloodydamn shit!" Sevro cursed at the emerging hologram of Regulus ag Sun, otherwise known as Quicksilver, the richest man in the solar system.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Terminology:**  
>  **-ruster:** Gold slang for Reds.  
>  **-burner:** Cigarette


	36. Why We Sing

#### Lykos

#### Mars

#### March 4th, 2841

Darrow was nervous as he and Mustang crept quietly through the tunnels of Lykos. The mining colony was dark at night, with the tunnel lights turned down so the Reds don't go crazy from an eternal day. Elsewhere, the nightshifts weave silk clothes and mine the Martian soils. But here in the wide tunnel, there was no motion or sound except for the murmur of HCs showing old terraforming holos and the hum of distant machines. It was cold in the tunnel, but still he was sweating.

Mustang was silent as she walked beside him. She hadn't spoken since they'd descended to the floor of the colony's Common, gliding down on gravBoots and shielded from lingering drunks with ghostCloaks. It was nostalgic being back here in Lykos after all these years. He'd arrived a few hours ahead of Mustang so he could visit Eo's grave. He knew she wasn't there. Her body had been exhumed and returned to the gallows to rot as soon as he'd been caught burying her, but it was the last place where his world had felt calm and stable.

It had been sad to realize how much his perspective had changed in only four years. Grass he'd remembered as perfect and soft he now recognized as being filled with weeds. The beautiful flowers turned out to be withered and paltry. What he'd once ignorantly assumed were stars shooting through the sky were the many ships of Mars streaking through the plant's orbit bound for either the belt, the rim, or the core. Seeing this perfect place tainted by the reality of what he'd seen, he'd wondered if Eo would seem as perfect as he remembered her, now that he knew the truth. Not only that the world was so much larger than she'd imagined, but that she'd been pregnant when she'd been executed.

After his silent vigil, Ragnar had accompanied him to meet with the mine magistrate Timony cu Podginus. After making the sleazy copper sweat with fear over the possibility of the mine being exterminated for not meeting production quotas, he forced the man to give the Reds working beneath the surface a feast with the food he'd brought with him. It was more food than his people would receive in a week, so he knew that everyone would smuggle as many leftovers home as they dared to. He felt satisfied that he'd at least be able to do something like this for his family before the war began. Once they took the war to Luna, he didn't know when he'd get another chance for this small act of kindness.

Mustang had met him in the viewing room during the feast as Darrow pointed out his mother Deanna, his brother Kieran, and the other Reds he'd grown up with, most of whom were now married with children of their own. They'd talked as the celebration went on. Darrow shared stories of his childhood growing up in Lambda township as his people sang and danced among the tables beneath their feet. Mustang had a story of her own to share, one that Darrow was both surprised, overjoyed, and scared to hear. A wave of sadness washed over him when he saw a Red boy sweep a girl into a dance after kissing her cheek, the scene slightly distorted by the glass at his feet. As much as he had wanted to, he'd never be like that boy ever again. His innocence had been lost the day that Eo died.

And no matter what future he brought them, the Reds of Lykos would never accept him as one of their own. To them, he was just another conquering hero. He had no place here, but he couldn't leave. There was still one last thing he and Mustang came to do before they returned to her father's estate to prepare for tomorrow's Triumph. His wild, nervous heartbeat calmed as Mustang placed her hand in his. He looked to her and saw her nod through the ripple in space created by the movement of her ghostCloak. Whatever came next, she wouldn't leave his side.

At last, they entered Lambda township, where he grew up for the first sixteen years of his life. After everything he'd seen and done, the place seemed so much smaller. Especially for two Golds. The ceiling was lower. The rope bridges and pulley systems that led to the upper levels of homes seemed like children's toys. The HC screen that once glowed with Octavia au Lune's face was revealed as an ancient relic with missing pixels dotting the surface. Mustang deactivated her cloak as she looked around, her eyes dancing from bridge to bridge to home like she's seeing something wonderful. It warmed Darrow's heart that she found a simple place like this so interesting.

Darrow climbed the stone steps to the bridge leading his old home just like he used to as a teenager only four years ago. Funny how four years of infiltration and deception make him feel like he's aged decades when he's barely twenty-one years old. Now, his limbs are too large for the steps, and he didn't want to use his gravBoots in here. Mustang kept hers off as well, dusting off her hands as she made it to the landing where the thin metal door to Darrow's old family home had been cut into the wall.

"Darrow," she said quietly. "Are you sure you're ready for this?" His hands trembled as he looked down at her.

"I'm not," he whispered nervously. "I don't know if I'll ever be ready for this, but if I don't get it over with now, I fear I'll never get another chance." She nodded in understanding.

"Are you sure you want to go this far?" he asked, still anxious and self-conscious about how well she's handling everything.

"I told you, helldiver," she whispered playfully as she held up the engagement ring on her hand. "I'm not leaving your side. I'm with you, Darrow. Always." He gave her one last kiss before he turned to the door.

"Wish me luck," he said quietly as he gently pushed it open. As a Gold, he was so much taller than his old Red self that he had to duck to enter his childhood home. The house was cramped, smaller now in comparison with the castles of the Institute and the warships of humanity's empire. Despite the quiet and the size, the first floor was the same as he remembered it. The small metal table hadn't changed. Neither had the plastic chairs, the small sink, the drying clay dishes, or his mother's prized teakettle hanging on the stove. There was a new rug spread out on the floor, the work of a beginner judging by the quality of the carpet. Darrow almost didn't recognize his old work boots sitting at the base of the stairs, right where his father used to place his own. Only they were more tattered and worn that they had been when he'd last worn them. Once again Darrow marveled at how small he used to be before Mickey carved him.

The house was cloaked in silence. Everyone but his mother was asleep. The teakettle hissed on the stove as the water reached a boil. Soon it began its breathy murmur. Feet scrape over the stone stairs of the house. Darrow fought the urge to run out of the room, rooted to the spot by terror as she came closer, until she was in the room with him. She paused at the last stair, her foot suspended in midair and forgotten. Her eyes found him and never left, completely ignoring the rest of his Golden form. Darrow panicked as she said nothing. A second passed. Then three. Then ten.  _She doesn't know me,_ Darrow thought, a mixture of sadness and fear.  _I shouldn't have come here. She doesn't recognize me. I'm a lost Gold poking his head in out of curiosity. I can leave. Run away now. My mother never has to know what her son has become._

Before he could make a decision, she finished her step and came towards him, gliding across the small space of the room. It had only been four years, but she looked like she had aged five times that. Her lips were thin, her skin loose and webbed with lines. Her hair was worked through with sooty gray, hands tough as oak and gnarled like ginger roots. When her right hand reached her face, Darrow had to kneel. She still hadn't taken his eyes off him. Now they let out tears, ignoring the teakettle screaming on the stove. She brought her other hand to his face, but was unable to open and touch like the other. It remained twisted and clenched like her son's heart.

"It's you," she whispered softly, as though Darrow would disappear like a night vision if she said the words too loudly. "It's you," Darrow could tell that her voice sounded different, slurred.

"You know me?" he managed to say desperately.

"How could I not?" she replied. Her smile was twisted, her left eyelid sluggish. Clearly, life had been far less kind to her than it had been to him.  _She's had a stroke,_ Darrow realized. It broke him to see his mother's body fail her. To know he wasn't there for her. To know her heart had broken. "I would know you… anywhere," she continued before she kissed his forehead. "My boy. You're my Darrow." Tears welled up in her son's eyes.

"Mother," he whispered. Still on his knees, Darrow threw his arms around her and let the silent tears continue to flow. For the longest time, neither of them say anything. His nostrils took in the lingering scent of grease, rust, and the musty tank of haemanthus. Her lips kissed his hair the way they used to when he was a child. Her hands scratched his back as though she remembered it just as brought and strong as it was now."

"I have to take the kettle off," she finally said. "Before someone wakes and sees you like…" She trailed off, gesturing to his golden hair.

"Of course," Darrow replied.

"You have to let go of me," she told him.

"Sorry," he said, laughing at himself as he let go of his mother.

"How…?" she asked, standing there looking at the Sigils on his hands, shaking her head. "How can this be? You… your accent. Everything."

"I was carved," Darrow explained. "Uncle Narol saved me. I can explain." She shook her head, trembling so slightly that she probably thought he couldn't see it. The kettle shrieked louder, and she told him to take a seat while she took it off the stove. She pulled her late husband's clay drinking mug from the high shelf, pausing as she slipped into a private moment where she remembered the mornings when she and Darrow's father would prepare for the day together. After taking a deep, long breath, she dropped the loose-leaf tea into the pot and poured in hot water afterwards.

"Would you like anything else?" she asked. "We have those biscuits you liked."

"No, thank you," Darrow replied.

"And I took my portion from the feast tonight," she continued. "It's delicate Gold food. Did you do that?"

"I'm not a Gold," he said. But he couldn't keep the blush from his cheeks, telling her all she needed to know.

"There are beans too," she added. "Fresh fro Leora's garden. You remember her?"

Darrow spared a quick glance at his datapad. Fitchner, in a fit of admittedly justified paranoid would only let him bring Mustang to Lykos if she consented to bringing a tracker with her to prove that she was on their side and not heading into Agea to sell them all out to her father. As both she and the rest of his friends had assured Fitchner, she was still right outside, although she'd sent a message letting him know she'd had to turn on her ghostCloak and gravBoots to avoid being seen by some drunk miners returning to their homes for the night. He didn't need the tracker to know where her heart was in this, but knowing she was still there was reassuring with the uncertainty of what he was doing now.

"I remember everyone," he said to his mother as he looked back up. "I'm still me." She paused when he said that, facing the stove. When she turned, a lopsided smile crossed her stroke-ravaged face. Her hand fumbled one of the mugs, but she recovered swiftly.

"Got something against the chairs?" she asked sharply when she noticed that he'd seen the clumsiness of her hand.

"Other way around, I'm afraid…" Darrow said with a chuckle. He hled up the chair. The plastic was only durable enough for a Gold child, not a Peerless Scarred who stood just over seven feet and weighed as much as any three Reds put together. She chuckled darkly, a laugh that, as a child, always made Darrow think she'd done something sinister. She gracefully folded her legs and sat on the ground instead. Darrow did the same, feeling gangly and clumsy in his childhood home as his mother put the steaming cups between us.

"You don't seem terribly surprised to see me," he said.

"You talk funny now," his mother pasued so long he wondered if she would even continue. "Narol told me you were alive. Failed to say you'd gone and dip yourself Gold, though." She paused to sip her tea. "I bet you've got questions."

"I thought you'd have more," Darrow replied with a laugh.

"I would," she answered as she eyed his Sigils. "But I know my son. I know my son. I'm more patient." And so, mother and son began to get caught up on what Darrow had missed after his "death". Darrow was surprised to learn that his uncle Narol was dead. The old drunk had fallen down a mineshaft with his son Loran two years ago. His mother laughed however. The bodies had never been found, and given Narol's personality and connections to the Sons of Ares, she told Darrow that she would believe her brother-in-law was dead when she met him in the Vale. The way she said that made Darrow think that she understood that there was more to the world beyond the mines. She probably didn't know the whole truth, but she did know part of it, Darrow speculated that his uncle and cousin faked their deaths to be with the Sons full-time.

Darrow's younger sister Leanna had remarried since he'd been gone. She'd moved in with her husband and his family in Gamma Township. Darrow had sneered learning that his sister had married a Gamma, but his mother had smirked threateningly, a message that he might wear the trappings of a Gold, but he had better shut the hell up about her daughter. In any case, Leanna had two daughters who looked more like Darrow and their father than any of the children from Gamma.

Kieran, Darrow's older brother, had grown significantly from the sniveling child that Darrow remembered screwing up his chores all the time. He'd become the HeadTalk for the Lykos mining crew after Uncle Narol's alleged death. His wife Nora had died in childbirth though, and he'd recently gotten remarried a few months ago. To Eo's sister Dio, as a matter of fact. She was pregnant, and Darrow's mother was hoping for a girl, but she said that with her luck it would be a boy who wanted to dodge pitvipers and steam burns his whole life if he could. After reassuring his mother about her fears that the mine was running dry, he finally told her what had happened to him. He told her everything, started from the moments after Eo's death and unding with the promise he made to the ArchGovernor.

His mother believed him, but she also pointed out that the other Reds wouldn't be as accepting of the truth of who he was and what really laid above the surface of Mars. After Darrow had finished his story, she admitted to him that she'd never liked Eo as a romantic partner for him. She felt that the girl could be manipulative, and had kept things from him, referring to the fact that she had kept her pregnancy a secret from him even when they were both being whipped for sneaking into the Bubble Garden where he'd buried her a few days later. Deanna reassured her son that his wife hadn't been a cruel girl, that Eo had loved him with everything she had, and Deanna loved her for it. But she had always been afraid that Eo would make Darrow fight her battles, and she knew how much her daughter-in-law loved to fight.

"But in the end, Mother," he said. "Eo was right about this. About Gold."

"I'm your mother," she retorted. "I don't care about what's right. I care about you, child."

"Someone has to fix all this," Darrow said. "Someone has to break the chains."

"And that someone is you?" she asked sarcastically.

"Yes," Darrow said, wondering why his mother was doubting. "It is. I'm not being foolish. I can lead us out of here. Out of slavery."

"To where?" she retorted. "To the surface? Where we will do what? All we know is the mines. All we know is how to dig. How to harvest silk. If what you say is true and there are hundreds of millions of Reds on Mars, how will there be enough homes for us up there? How will there be enough work? Most won't leave the mines, even if they know. You'll see. They'll just stay miners. And their children will be miners. And their children's children, except the nobility will be lost. Do you think about these things?"

"Of course, I do," Darrow answered.

"And do you have an answer?"

"No," he admitted.

"Men," she groaned, rubbing her right temple. "Your father was one to jump without looking." Her expression told Darrow everything he needed to know about what she thought of that. "Helldivers all think they provide for the clans," she continued, gesturing around. "No. The women do. Everything you see, made by a woman. But you know how to shape the world, don't you? Know how it should be."

"No," Darrow said. "I don't. I'm not the one with the answers. No one man or woman has all the answers. A thousand, a million bright minds will be needed to answer what you've asked me. That's the point of all this. What I can do, what I am good at is tearing down the men and women who would keep those minds shackled. That's why I'm here. It's why I exist."

"You've changed," she finally said after a moment of silence.

"I know," Darrow replied as he picked dust up from the floor and rubbed it between his palms, noticing how strange the familiar dust looks on his Golden hands. "Do you think… Is it possible to love two people?" His mother picked up on what he was talking about almost immediately. He didn't need to explain to his mother that he had found love again with a Gold.

"I'm happy for you, child," she said. "But I'm worried for you as well. She was raised to maintain these shackles you want to break. If you tell her the truth I fear she'll leave you in a heartbeat."

"Mother," Darrow replied as he sent a message on his dataPad for Mustang to come in. "She already knows, and still she loves me." His mother looked at him, and he knew that she'd realized why he was telling her about Mustang."

"You want my blessing," she said. Darrow nodded, and his mother leaned forward and gave him a hug. "My boy, you don't need permission to follow your heart. If this girl knows who you are, where you come from, and wants to marry you anyway, then go right ahead and marry her." Deanna jumped to her feet as the door pushed inward and Mustang walked in, Darrow quickly calmed his mother down and introduced her to his fiancé. His mother was closed off and guarded at first, but as she and Mustang talked about the Gold's relationship with her son, Darrow could see that his mother was beginning to warm up to Mustang. But before the conversation could move towards a topic that Darrow had planned to talk to his mother about, one of Kieran's daughters came down stairs to talk to his mother, forcing him and Mustang to activated their ghostCloaks and quietly slip out of the house while his mother brought her niece back to bed. Telling his mother that Mustang was pregnant would have to come another day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Background info:**  
>  -It's theorized by fans that Mustang knew she was pregnant with Pax Jr. when Darrow told her the truth in canon, and that was part of why she was so disoriented by the revelation that Darrow was a Red.  
> -The mining colonies of Mars are divided into multiple clans. Gamma, Lambda, Omicron, etc. Gamma clans are given special treatment by the Golds as a way of keeping the Red divided against each other instead of uniting against their masters. As such, everyone who's not in Gamma hates those in Gamma clan.
> 
>  **Terminology:**  
>  **-Haemanthus:** A flower grown on Mars. It's name means "blood blossom", and its oils can render a person unconscious and give the appearance of death. This is how Darrow's execution was faked in Red Rising. His uncle gave him drink from a mixture of Haemanthus oil and beer before he went to bury Eo.  
>  **-The Vale:** Red culture's depiction of the afterlife.


	37. Golden Son

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2/18/18: Combined the last three chapters into one. I cut out the parade section so I could focus more on the banquet. Because of that, half the chapter is from Darrow's POV, and half is from Shiro's. I also made modifications to explain why Tactus isn't at the banquet or parade. As of this update, the rewrites for Hic Sunt Leones are 100% complete. Rewrites for Omnis vir Lupus will start later this week, with regular updates to the sequel resuming after I binge Season 5.

#### Agea

#### Mars

#### March 15th, 2841

* * *

**Darrow POV**

* * *

“Try not to look so damn pleased with yourself," Lorn said to Darrow as they stood amidst the white-pathed gardens of the Citadel. A gentle breeze blew through the area, stirring the bells hanging in the trees. The parade held for Darrow’s Triumph had been a gross spectacle that put the gala on Luna to shame, literally lasting from dawn to dusk. It was a grand affair to signify the beginning of a new era – a Solar System led by Mars, instead of Luna. In contrast, the private banquet held for the Golds who’d fought in the Siege of Mars was a much simpler affair. Small tables sat beneath ivy-covered boughs as Pink attendants cleared away the food from the feast. Peerless stood on green grass and white paths, laughing and impressing one another while cradling glasses of champagne. Darrow could sense the Jackal's hand in the planning behind the dinner. For all his manipulation, Mustang's brother was a tastefully modest creature.

More Gold dignitaries came to the dinner than to the ceremony, and Darrow and Augustus had to greet all of them. Naturally, they'd come to the Reaper and the ArchGovernor in a line based on hierarchy. Eventually, Darrow had grown tired of glad-handing and sought out Lorn near the base of a thin white tree. His arms were crossed, his face all stormy and scowling as he tossed his champagne into a shrub.

"I hate this sort of thing too," Darrow said. "Soon as I get my Mask, Augustus wants me to cozy up to some of the Moon Lords. Then it's bed for me." While he would have enjoyed the festivities more with Mustang there, he knew that she didn't want to let her guard down around her brother. And in any case, she was busy processing her father's true intentions. To maintain the illusion of their false fight, Darrow stayed away from his datapad for the entire day, using Shiro as a go-between to relay messages to Mustang in orbit. Their last message had been to relay his conversation with her father. As Darrow and Shiro had suspected, Augustus' talk of giving Reformers a seat at the table were only there to gain their support, and the Reformers would be imprisoned or executed once they defeated Octavia. Mustang was still upset about the deception, having finally began to hope that her father could change. Lorn's voice snapped Darrow out of his thoughts.

"Alone it seems," the old Rage Knight commented, squinting as he looked around for any sign of Mustang. "Where is you girl? Been looking high and low."

"Don't know," Darrow lied, wondering how many other people had noticed her absence. After they had returned from Lykos, she'd gathered the group together and warned them that she didn't trust her brother not to sell them all out to the Sovereign for his own personal gain. Unlike Pliny, she felt that Adrius had a chance at succeeding. So, they'd spent the last twenty-four hours preparing their contingency plan. She, Tactus, and the Telemanuses abstained from participating in the Triumph, waiting in orbit aboard the family warships so that they could swoop in and extract everyone if her brother's allies attacked the festivities. Meanwhile, the others made sure to have concealed weapons on them durin the ceremony, with gravBoots hidden in their saddle bags.

If the Jackal tried anything, they would do what they could to fight off any potential ambushes and evacuate the ArchGovernor and his allies from the Citadel. The Jackal had noted his sister's absence when he arrived at the Citadel the previous night. Darrow had pacified his curiosity by telling him they'd had a fight about their father. The Jackal hadn't been surprised, although Shiro privately doubted any of them would be able to tell even if Mustang's twin was surprised. After that conversation, the Jackal reassured Darrow that even if they weren't allies they could still be civil, and poured the two of them enough drinks to give Darrow a dull headache behind his left eye.

"Ah," Lorn grunted, jolting the Reaper out of his train of thoughts. "Lovers' quarrel? Well, I won't pour advice in your ear except to say, swallow your pride. She's a gem if you can keep her."

"I'm glad you came," Darrow replied. "Even if your advice is shit." Lorn laughed gruffly and nodded to the Jackal, who was in the middle of a conversation with several Politicos from Ganymede.

"Your "friend" made it possible," the old Rage Knight chortled. "Augustus somehow forgot to invite me, even though my men won him a planet. Manners are so conditional these days. Speaking of, how long do you think I have to stay before it's not rude to leave?"

"It's not even nine," Darrow laughed. "Aren't you presenting the Mask in a few minutes?"

"I was," Lorn answered with a chuckle. "But it's tedious statecraft. I asked your friend Roque to do it, but Augustus' son insisted on doing it as a "gesture of gratitude and friendship."" Darrow frowned at the news. He'd figured Lorn wouldn't recognize the Jackal's penchant for manipulation, but still, this last-minute change of plants was a significant warning flag.

"But if I don't get another chance to talk to you before I sneak out," the retired Olympic Knight went on. "I just want you to know that you're like a son to me, no matter what Color you are." Darrow froze. _How did he find out?_ He wondered frantically. _How long has he known?_

"I'm sorry?" he asked, feigning confusion.

"Don't play stupid with me, Darrow," Lorn retorted. "I know Shiro told you that my family was descended from one of the Paladins of Voltron. We both know he would never be so invested in the outcome of this war if he didn't feel that any side represented anything he stood for. I noticed the similarities between his forged credentials and your own history. It wasn't that difficult to figure out the rest from there" Once again, Darrow was stunned, standing there silently as he waited to see how someone he considered a friend would react to the revelation that he had been lying to them.

"And?" he asked nervously.

"Honestly, Darrow," Lorn began. "You're changing things. I used to support the hierarchy, even if I didn't agree with how it was enforced. But seeing the way you treat the mid and lowColors on your ships, the way you expected them to do things I was raised to believe they weren't capable of. I read some of Virginia's dissertations on the way to Hildas Station. At first, I simply thought that her ideas on the hierarchy were misinformed, or born out of ignorance. But seeing the atmosphere of camaraderie and friendship across Colors was enough to change this old man's mind. When the time finally comes for you to fight for your people, House Arcos will stand with you."

"Thank you," Darrow whispered as he hugged his razormaster, tears streaming down his face. "You have no idea how much this means, to have so many people support this dream." For a minute, the two simply stood there in silence. After Darrow finally wiped his eyes, Lorn leaned back against the tree.

"My old bones creak at night," the old man commented jokingly as a ripWing passed by overhead. "I'm going to check on security so I don't have to talk to any of these slippery people."

"Let someone else do that," Darrow replied as a Pink handed Lorn the tumbler of whiskey he'd ordered. The Rage Knight's favorite label. Lorn sniffed the drink, subdued. "I only get to see you in armor," Darrow continued warmly. "Act the proper mentor and stay with me. We have two bottles of the Lagavulin for you."

"Back to the old tricks," Lorn laughed. "Two bottles for an extra two hours of training, wasn't that the deal? I should have charged more. Ha!" He limped off with the whiskey to play tag with his grandchildren in the trees. Darrow frowned as he watched the Pink who delivered Lorn's drink slip back into the crowd. Her movements were vaguely familiar, but he couldn't put his finger on why. He was distracted when a woman looped her arm in his, and he turned to find Victra standing by his side with a glass of wine in her hand.

"I do hope the Violets put lions instead of a Pegasus on your Mask," she commented, laughing at his expression. "Yes, the rumor is already aflight. Darrow au Augustus." She paused, shivering playfully. "The women will come running."

"Oh, shut up," Darrow retorted jokingly as he rolled his eyes.

"Make me," Victra teased as she slid her hand along his back. She nodded to a group of young Peerless from the Gas Giants as she leaned in close. "It's a shame you already settled down. But does it mean you can't play?"

"Do you just enjoy trying to make me blush," Darrow asked rhetorically. He already knew the answer.

"You've found me out," Victra replied, pulling the laurel wreath from his head and placing it on her own as she curtsied foolishly. "In all serious though, I'm happy for you and Mustang. In retrospect, you two were practically made for each other. No wonder I never stood a chance with you."

"There's always Sevro," Darrow suggested, only half joking. Shiro wasn't the only one tempted to tell those two to get a room when they started bickering, but they both agreed that they would let Sevro and Victra figure that out on their own before resorting to "playing matchmaker" as the Old Earth saying went. Victra laughed at the suggestion, but Darrow didn't fail to spot the faint hint of blush on her cheeks. A few minutes later, Roque and Quinn walked up to let him know it was time for him to gather for the Mask presentation. Roque looked dashing with his sleek black Praetor's uniform and slicked back hair, but unfortunately, he didn't know where the gathering point for the ceremony was. Quinn looked equally as elegant, with her white dress draped elegantly around her lithe frame.

Citadel staff was still discombobulated after the battle. The Bellona had only controlled the place for a month, but the Jackal was still combing through the Pinks for spies, even more so after the Sons of Ares raided his citadel in Attica. Mustang's brother had his men everywhere tonight, from the security down to the Pinks. Yet another reason that Darrow and his lieutenants were on their guard for a potential betrayal. Shiro and the others went on ahead while Victra set the laurel wreath back on Darrow's head, and pulled him toward the clearing in the gardens where the other Golds were assembling before Sevro cut across their path and stopped them.

"Darrow," he said quickly. "He's still not here." Darrow’s expression soured. The Rage Knight had been a no-show at the ceremony as well. Something was wrong.

"Fitchner?" Darrow asked. "You call his datapad?"

"Isn't going through," Sevro answered. "The bastard said he was coming. So, if he isn't here, something important must be happening. I should check."

"Check," Darrow ordered before grabbing his friend's arm. "But call Ragnar. And be careful."

"I'm always careful," Sevro replied before he rounded up four of the Howlers and left the banquet. Darrow felt strange watching his friend leave. It was like watching his shadow depart and realizing that its destiny might be separate from his own. _Perhaps in the end, he's more important than I,_ he thought to himself. _Truly, a child of two worlds._ With the conversation concluded, Victra split off to pass along the news to Quinn, Shiro, and Roque. If the Jackal was planning anything, it would happen soon.

Darrow followed the crowd through the trees until he reached the clearing. Little lanterns made homes in the tree branches and bathed the area in a warm white glow. There were no Whites present. No formalities here. This would be as understated as the Triumph was grand. The crowd parted for him as he walked onto the white cobblestones where Lorn sat with his grandchildren on the edge of a dolphin fountain. Augustus motioned for him to stand by him near a statue of a blind maiden holding a scale and a sword, drowned in ivy. The Jackal joined them a minute later.

"It looks as if we're going to be brothers," Darrow told him.

"Well, who says you can't choose family" Adrius replied, glancing distractedly at his datapad. "Better you than that bastard Cassius. Congratulations on proposing by the way." The Jackal's attention to his datapad was a warning flag for Darrow.

"Something the matter?" he asked his future brother-in-law.

"More gorydamn requisition orders," The Jackal answered as he looked up from his datapad. Darrow didn't believe that answer for a second. "Sorry. All's prime on Mars, my goodman. Just wish my sister were here. You still wouldn't know where she is, would you?" Darrow shook his head, missing his fiancé even as he understood the necessity of her contingency plans. The ArchGovernor's voice interrupted his thoughts.

"Your pardon! My goodmen!" Augustus announced, cutting through the murmur of conversation. "Thank you." He paused to clear his throat before extending a welcome to Mars's many guests, tipping his head to the ArchGoverness of Triton. "Though our glass sparkle and bellies are full, this night will not last," he began, peering through the guests. His voice firm and dry in the damp air as fireflies glowed among the trees. "We know that this is only the beginning. War will require much from us. But let us not be so hasty as to pass over a victory such as the one we saw just a few weeks ago. A triumph of will, loyalty, strength."

"All that grandeur of the parade was for them," the ArchGovernor of Mars continued, tapping his facial scar once. "Quiet moments like these are for us. Where we, despite our differences, can nod our heads and raise our glasses to a unique accomplishment of will. It was not done alone. But the Rain was called by one man. So, Darrow au Andromedus, we salute you."

"Hail, Reaper!" Lorn called out, mocking Darrow only slightly. And with that, everyone rose their glasses and murmured their agreement as they drank. Despite the tactical necessity of her absence, Darrow felt hollow looking to his left and seeing Mustang's brother instead of her. Smiling felt false to him, knowing that all of this would soon crumble. Victra seemed to sense his mood and winked, tilting her glass to him before giving him a knowing nod. Augustus motioned to the Jackal, who walked over to the fountain and returned with a large ivory box cradled in his arms. Inside would be the Triumph mask carved by Violets in celebration of Darrow's victory. _Assuming the box isn't part of his plan, that is,_ he reminded himself as he signaled for Victra to be ready to act. She would relay his instructions to Roque and Shiro, and between the three of them, they'd be ready.

Darrow and the Jackal exchanged pleasantries for a few minutes, but the Reaper of Mars couldn't shake the sense of unease he'd felt all evening. His gaze drifted over Adrius' shoulder, where Victra stood whispering something humorous to her half-sister and their skeletal mother. Lorn was serving his grandchildren little plates of cake brought by a short Pink. But as the server turned, Darrow froze up inside. The man turned haughtily. Ruthlessly. Unlike any Pink ever born, breaking character for only half a second. Darrow knew that turn. He knew the man. It was Vixus, one of the most ruthless classmates of House Mars from the Institute. It had to be him. Darrow's eyes darted to the Pink who had delivered Lorn's whiskey. It was Lilath, the Jackal's Housemate who wore bones in her hair at the Institute, and had allied with the Bellona. The Jackal's allies were dressed as Pinks. Golds wearing fleshMasks and contacts.

Wolves playing lambs.

Darrow pulled back from the Jackal, about to shout when he felt the other man's grip tighten. A needle from his ring gently pricked Darrow's wrist, and he followed up with a kiss planeted on Darrow's cheek.

"And thus go liars, with a bloodydamn kiss." One word shattered a thousand lies. With his face colder than the marble status behind them, the Jackal opened the box's lid. With a gentle creak of silver hinges, Darrow's world ended. Augustus gasped in horror at what was inside the box. And the Jackal, his eyes full of long-dormant hate, smiled at Darrow as he cocked his head back like an animal to release a manic, mocking howl.

A signal of the end.

* * *

**Shiro POV**

* * *

As soon as the Jackal pulled back his head, Shiro and the others sprang into action. As Victra reached for her razor, Antonia stepped back and pulled a scorcher from a waiter's tray. She was about to fire into her sister's spine before Shiro charged over and knocked her to the ground. Her shot went wild, grazing Victra in the knee. Before anyone else could move, Antonia leaned up and fired twice at her mother's head.

"ARCOS!" Augustus screamed as he whipped out his razor. "TO ARMS!"

"HOWLERS TO ME!" Lorn roared, pushing back his grandchildren. "PROTECT THE REAPER!" But it was too late. As the handful of Howlers who hadn't left with Sevro began to move in the Rage Knight's direction, Shiro watched out of the corner of his eye while Lilath pulled a pulseDagger from under her tray and swept it across his throat from behind. Acting quickly, Lorn shoved his hand between his throat and the blade, losing four fingers in exchange for his life. He angled his body and strained against her, grasping her wrist with his bloody arm as his blade hummed to life. It was an intimate moment of horror as chaos reigned across the clearing.

Shiro and Victra waded through the bloodbath, razors drawn and slashing at the Jackal's assassins. They found the ArchGoverness of Triton fighting off Vixus and quickly came to her rescue. As Vixus realized he was about to be outnumbered, he turned and hurled a pulseDagger at Shiro's head. The Black Paladin dodged in the nick of time and retaliated by lopping off the malicious Gold's head. Shiro caught sight of the Jackal gliding through the midst of the melee like a reptile over ice and fought the urge to attack then and there. The sadistic cannibal's relation to Mustang aside, he knew that going against a Gold alone in the middle of this chaos was tantamount to suicide.

They reached the periphery of the massacre as the ArchGovernor of Io collapsed with a bullet between the eyes. Shiro jumped over the falling corpse to find Antonia pressing her foot down against the head of the dead man's granddaughter. Enraged at the matricide's willingness to murder children in cold blood, he lashed out with his razor and cut off her leg at the knee. As her half-sister fell to the ground, crying out in pain, Victra raced forward and scooped the terrified nine-year-old up in her arms. Realizing that he hadn't seen Lorn since the battle began, Shiro turned and gestured for the others to head to the clearing without him.

"Go," he told them. "I'll go get Lorn and his grandchildren." Victra looked hesitant, unwilling to let him wade into the fray alone and unarmored, but she nodded in understanding, knowing that he needed to do this. The ArchGoverness of Triton guided Victra into the forest as Shiro sprinted through the crowd, stabbing and slashing at any assassin that tried to take a shot at him. He reached the dolphin fountain to find Lorn stabbing Lilath in the leg with a shard of broken glass. His grandchildren cowered in fear on the other side of the fountain. Shiro removed Liltah's hand and pulled her off Lorn so that the old man could catch his breath.

"Get my grandchildren out of here," he told Shiro as he gestured for the kids hiding at the other side of the fountain. "I'll hold them off."

"No," the Black Paladin replied. "I'm not leaving you here to die." Shiro knew why Lorn was doing this, but he refused to let the ex-Rage Knight die like this. In the last few weeks, the patriarch of House Arcos had become more than just a tangible connection to his past. The old man had become something of a mentor to Shiro in the two months since he'd met him.

"That wasn't a request," Lorn retorted. "This is an order. And Voltron isn't anywhere in sight, so don't you dare try to pull rank on me. I'm wounded enough as it is. I'd rather go down fighting so my grandchildren can live than live than have them slaughtered in the escape. Now go." Tears welled up in Shiro's eyes as he nodded in understanding. He didn't like it, but he knew why Lorn was doing this. Reluctantly, he gathered Lorn's grandchildren and lead them toward the forest, dodging scorcher fire along the way. As they fought through the bloodbath, pulse weapons warbled in the distance. Thunder ripped the sky as dark shapes descended, cracking the sound barrier as they raced down. _They came from a stealth ship,_ Shiro realized as he bisected an assassin attempting to take one of Lorn's grandchildren prisoner.

It appeared that their greatest fear had been confirmed. The Jackal had collaborated with the Sovereign for his own personal gain. Despite Shiro's best efforts, three Arcos children were cut down before they finally reached the relative safety of the gardens. He resisted the impulse to run back into the clearing as Obsidians and Praetorians landed in the midst of the clearing, thumping down on the stone as they began to surround Lorn. The Jackal's classmates laughed as they peeled away their electronic fleshMasks and shook free their golden hair. Behind them, Aja landed in the clearing, her splendorous armor flashing in the lantern light. Her face was dark and content as she surveyed the carnage while Cassius landed beside her. Despite his urge to rush in and save the day, Shiro kept the group of frightened children moving.

They found Victra, Roque, and Quinn there with their own groups of survivors. As he did a quick headcount, he quickly realized that there was one person they were still missing. In their haste to escape with their lives, they'd left Darrow behind. _I guess I'd better fix that then,_ Shiro thought to himself as he quickly threw his ghostCloak on over his lancer's uniform and grabbed a jamField out of his pocket.

"Shiro," Roque protested. "It's too dangerous."

"I know," he replied. "But we all know that Darrow would do the same for us. We'll catch up as soon as I can get him away from there." He was expecting more of an argument, but he was pleasantly surprised when Quinn simply handed him a dataSlip.

"I've got a homing beacon in my bag," she said. "Frequency is on the dataSlip. Go save the Reaper." Shiro nodded as he activated the ghostCloak and raced back toward the fray. As he ran, he inserted the dataSlip and frantically typed out a group message to Mustang, Tactus, and the Telemanuses on his dataPad. As he approached the clearing, he turned on the jamField so that he wouldn't be overheard while he ran. Despite the insulation, he bit back a wail of pain at the sight of Lorn's dead body, surrounded by bleeding Stained and Praetorian corpses as blood flowed from an open wound in the man's stomach. His blood boiled as Aja bent over and took Lorn's razor from where it had fallen and closed her former mentor's eyes forever. As he crept silently through the trees, he saw Cassius stop at Darrow's feet and got down on one knee to watch his former friend.

"Can he move, Jackal?" Cassius asked Mustang's brother. Shiro slowed his pace as he made his way around the perimeter of the clearing toward where Darrow was slumped against the statue, paralyzed, the ivory box that was supposed to have contained his Triumph mask resting in his lap.

"No," Adrius answered. "But he can hear." Shiro breathed a quiet sigh of relief. _At least he's not completely catatonic,_ he thought to himself as he stopped behind the statue.

"You killed my family, Darrow," the Bellona said bitterly. "All of them. Me, Julian, that's one thing. But the children? How could you?"Shiro's brow furrowed in confusion. The Bellona mansion had never been a target. Darrow and Mustang had expressly forbidden anyone from headhunting any Bellona who weren't active combatants.

"I'll find Sevro," the Morning Knight continued as he touched the enameled hilt of his razor with his new arm. "I'll find Mustang. There will be no mercy." A theory began to form in Shiro's mind, but he didn't have the opportunity to act on it right then and there. He'd have to wait until he was certain he was correct.

"You can't kill him," the Jackal warned from a few feet behind Cassius. "You know what he is. The Sovereign's orders were clear." Shiro couldn't make out what Cassius had said next, but he could see the Bellona heir lean down and take the House Mars class ring from Darrow's finger. In any case, he could probably guess what the Sovereign wanted to do with the Reaper. _She probably wants to have him publicly executed for defying her,_ Shiro surmised as he waited for an opening to run in and grab Darrow.

"Julian. Lea. Pax. Harpy. Rotback. Lorn," Cassius continued as he rose from his knee to tower over Darrow. "They deserved better than to die for a slave." Shiro's eyes widened as he realized what those words meant. It meant that there was more to the ambush than just the Jackal gaining power for himself. Somehow, Mustang's brother had figured out Darrow's secret.

"We must hurry," Aja drawled at the center of the massacre. "The survivors will have notified the fleet in orbit. They know we're here. Bring your father and let us go."

"A moment, if you please," the Jackal requested with a nod. Several meters away, on the other side of the clearing, Augustus lay pinned to the ground by three waiters. They hoisted him up as the Jackal approached, stepping over Lorn's desecrated body.

"Is the Mask not as you like, Darrow?" he called back. "I made it just for you after you revealed your true self to me in Attica." _Well,_ Shiro thought to himself as he reached the statue. _That pretty much confirms it, then._ After finished speaking, the Jackal stood in the clearing next to his father. Aja and Cassius stepped in front of the waiters keeping the ArchGovernor restrained, unwitting ensuring that Shiro would be able to move Darrow without scrutiny. He fought the urge to vomit as he removed the ivory box from Darrow's lap and saw Fitchner's severed head sitting inside, the Rage Knight's eyes gouged out and his mouth stuffed with grapes.

"What do you think, Father?" he heard the Jackal ask Augustus. "Was this a ploy worthy of your name?" Once he'd set the box down close enough behind Darrow that it would look like it had fallen, he began to carefully inch Darrow over until gravity did the rest and the reaper fell onto his side.

"You monster," the ArchGovernor of Mars snapped, spitting in his son's face from the sound of it. "What have you done?"

"So, you're not proud?" the Jackal asked rhetorically as he wiped his face and looked down at his hand. "Damn."

"Stop this," Augustus begged. "My son, you've ruined us." As the conversation continued, Shiro carefully repositioned Darrow's legs so that he could be rolled onto his back. _For once,_ he thought to himself. _I’m glad Tactus isn’t here. Aja would have killed him on sight._

"Adrius," Aja warned impatiently. "We must go." But the Jackal wasn't finished yet, and took a step toward Augustus.

"So now, you call me son?" he snapped, clucking his tongue scoldingly as he straightened his father's jacket. "Was I your son when you put me on a rock for the elements to claim me? Three days. I was a baby. The Board didn't even want an Exposure. But you thought I was so weak, and Claudius so strong. Was he strong when I had Karnus put him in the ground?"

"What?" the ArchGovernor gasped, his voice so quiet from shock that Shiro almost didn't hear it. Shiro himself stood frozen in surprise at this revelation.

"I paid Karnus au Bellona seven billion credits and six Pinks to sully Claudius' girl. I knew Claudius' honor would lead him into the ring. Funny thing is… it was your money. I asked you for it so I could "invest in my future". And I did." He paused, and Shiro imagined that he was frowning. "Father," he continued. "Did you really think a ten-year-old cares about the Silver market? You should have paid better attention."

"You killed Claudius," Augustus said bleakly, his voice breaking under the strain and shock as he sagged into the arms of the waiters holding him, shaking from sadness. "You killed my boy." Shiro's heart sank. Though he'd never known Claudis au Augustus, he'd heard enough to know that Mustang would be crushed by the knowledge that her own twin had engineered her older brother's murder.

"I am you boy," the Jackal sneered. "I was a good son. I worshiped you. I feared you. I obeyed you. I learned what you wished me to learn. I went where you wished me to go. I did only as your will commanded. Yet I was not enough."

"I should have strangled you in your crib," the ArchGovernor snapped. Shiro grimaced.

"Come now, Father…" the Jackal replied. Suspecting what was about to happen, Shiro slipped his arms under Darrow's knees and shoulders and prepared his gravBoots for takeoff.

"You are not my son," Augustus snapped. Adrius flinched, and even Shiro resigned himself to what he knew was coming. With those few words, Augustus had released something. Now, the small part of Adrius that held out hope to be loved disappeared. The ArchGovernor's son shook off his humanity, leaving only the Jackal.

"Then farewell hope," the Jackal began, his voice just loud enough for Shiro to hear as he whispered to some distant, fading part of himself as he shifted his stance enough for Shiro to see the scorcher being lazily lifted to the ArchGovernor's forehead. "And with hope farewell fear. Farewell remorse: all good to me is lost. Evil, be thou my good."

"Stop," Aja demanded. "Adrius! In the name of the Sovereign – "

Her words were cut off as the Jackal shot his father in the head. Realizing that he'd never have a better opening, Shiro engaged his gravBoots and took off into the sky, cutting off the jamField once he was far enough away from the clearing so the sonic boom wouldn't deafen him within the field as he accelerated off into the night. Tears and sweat streamed down his face as he glided across the Citadel gardens and the full force of what had just happened hit him like a freight train.

Nero au Augustus, ArchGovernor of Mars, was dead, killed by his own son. Lorn au Arcos, Hunk's he-didn't-know-how-many-times-great-grandson, the first person in this era to give Shiro real, tangible hope of returning to his own time, had been killed making sure that Shiro and the man's grandchildren would make it out of the massacre. Fitchner, Ares, the first person in centuries to stand up to Gold's rule, had been butchered. Shiro shuddered to imagine what had happened to the rest of the Sons of Ares. Hundreds of the Sovereign's political enemies, many of them members of the Reformist block, had been eliminated. Half the governors from the gas giants were cut down in the bloodbath, cutting off the Augustus power base at the knees. Every group resisting the Sovereign was now in tatters.

Shiro's muscles ached from holding Darrow, but thankfully his flight was brief, and once he caught up with Quinn's homing beacon, he disengaged the thrusters on his gravBoots and glided gently down to the ground. He landed one knee and found Victra, Roque, and Quinn lifting the last of the stragglers over the wall separating the gardens from the streets of Agea. Outside of the three of them, Darrow, and Shiro himself, less than twenty Golds had escaped the slaughter. _What are we going to do now?_ Shiro wondered as Roque took Darrow so he could stand up.

"Is he…?" Quinn asked, leaving the rest of the sentence unfinished, though her question was obvious.

"He's still alive," Shiro answered breathlessly as he climbed to his feet. "Whatever the Jackal injected him with just paralyzed him. He can still hear us." Victra squeezed Darrow's shoulder in sympathy as they moved to take shelter in a nearby alley.

"Mustang was right," he commented as they stretched the ghostCloak across the alley like a curtain to give themselves a few minutes to catch their breath. "Aja and Cassius came in with the Praetorians. Augustus is dead."

"And Grandpa Lorn…?" one of the late Rage Knight's grandchildren asked nervously. Shiro's heart ached as he knelt to the boy's eye level as he prepared himself to deliver the bad news.

"I'm so sorry," he said sadly. "He didn't make it." He comforted the children as best as he could for a few minutes to help them grieve before he stood up and returned to join the others. _For once, I'm not the shortest one here,_ he thought to himself with a sad smile as he tried and failed to cheer himself up so he could focus on the task at hand. He looked up at Victra and gestured with his eyes that he needed to talk to the rest of Darrow's lieutenants alone. They left the ArchGoverness of Triton and the other six adults while they moved further down the alley.

"The Jackal figured out that Darrow's a Red," he said bluntly once they were out of earshot of the rest of the group. "There was never a Triumph mask in the box. It was Fitchner's head." Quinn gasped in horror, while Victra and Roque stayed silent, their dropped jaws betraying their dismay.

"How did he find out?" Victra asked. "Darrow and I both made sure not to give anything away when we staged the breakout in Attica."

"How the Jackal found out doesn't matter," Quinn interjected. "What matters is that our power base has been cut off at the knees. The Sons of Ares are likely in disarray, if not completely shattered. Until Darrow recovers from whatever the Jackal drugged him with, it's up to us to salvage something out of this mess. But before we do anything else, we need to get back to our fleet in orbit and find a place to regroup." Shiro nodded as they walked back to the group and took down the ghostCloak. If they were going to survive, they needed to keep moving.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Darrow and Lorn's conversation is mostly the same as in canon, except for the part where Lorn reveals that he figured out Darrow's secret. That I added in myself, since Lorn died in the books without ever learning the truth, I wanted him to know in this story.
> 
> And with that, Hic Sunt Leones is over. I was planning on ending this fic right at the ending of Golden Son since I first started writing this, with Shiro's presence causing massive ripple effects on the story from there. With Darrow and the others free, lots of stuff from Morning Star is going off the rails. Victra never got paralyzed, Darrow never got put in the box (I'm still going to have a situation where he goes through that character development that The Stone Table gave him in a way that makes sense for this AU). Since Victra never put her emotional walls back up after being tortured for a year, her relationship with Sevro will develop sooner. With Roque not being given command of the Sword Armada, the situation with the Rim will play out a lot differently than in canon.
> 
> To mirror how the upcoming sequel series Iron Gold , which goes from one POV character to four, the POV sections for the sequel will have four main POV characters to keep things consistent so I don't keep jumping to other characters' points of view every few chapters. The POV will be divided between 2 Voltron characters and 2 Red Rising character: Darrow, Shiro, Keith, and Mustang.
> 
> I can promise that the sequel will pick up immediately after the end of Hic Sunt Leones (at least on the Red Rising side). With all that said, I hope everyone's enjoyed this story, and I look forward to starting the sequel in a few months.
> 
> Terminology:
> 
> FleshMasks: Masks worn by Golds to disguise their facial features and give themselves the appearance of another Color. Typically used for clandestine meetings in LowColor clubs/restaurants/businesses/etc.


End file.
